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Copyright,   1919 

LOOMIS   &   COMPANY 

Boston 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/beingnarrativeofOOcambiala 


>r'  ^cP/'VO 


BEING  THE  NARRATIVE 


OF 


BATTERY     A 


OF  THE 


lOlst  FIELD  ARTILLERY 

(FORMERLY  BATTERY  A  OF  BOSTON) 


From  the  time  of  its  muster  into  the  Federal  Service  on  July 
25,  1917,  through  its  19  months  of  service  in  France,  nine 
months  of  which  were  in  action  at  the  front,  until  its  de- 
mobilization at  Camp  Devens,  Mass.,  on  April  29,  1919. 


Cambridge,  Mass. 

THE   BRATTLE   PRESS 

Printers 


Perhaps  some  discerning  reader  may  discover, 
in  the  pages  that  follow,  mistakes  in  grammar  or 
changes  in  style.  If  so,  he  should  bear  in  mind 
that  no  less  than  16  members  of  the  Battery  helped 
write  this  history,  and  that,  written  as  it  was,  for 
the  greater  part  in  France  during  the  months  fol- 
lowing the  armistice,  the  events  of  the  preceding 
year  and  the  "dialect"  of  the  Army  were  much 
fresher  in  the  minds  of  the  men  than  was  the  liter- 
ary technique  of  the  English  language. 


CONTENTS 

Page 
PREFACE 9 

BOXFORD,  AND  THE  REORGANIZATION  OF  THE  BATTERY  13 

EN  AVANT 21 

THE  TRAINING   PERIOD  AT   CAMP  COETQUIDAN 33 

CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  49 

ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  66 

THE  TOUL  SECTOR 83 

CHATEAU-THIERRY   112 

A  REAL  REST „ 141 

THE   ST.   MIHIEL   DRIVE 149 

THE   VERDUN   FRONT   „ 174 

FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE ! 193 

HOME    :. 228 

APPENDIX   239 


ENGRAVINGS 
The  French  75 Frontispiece 

Facing  Page 

Pictures  of  men  of  Battery  A  who  were  killed  in  action....    8 

Second  Section  Gun  Pit  on  the  Chemin  des  Dames 48 

Shell  Torn  Church  at  Chassemy 48 

Third  Piece  at  Coetquidan  48 

The  Brick  Factory  at  Rangeval  88 

Monastery  at  Rangeval 88 

Picket  Line  at  Brachay  88 

Photograph  taken  by  Airplane  of  the  Battle  of  Seicheprey  96 

First  Piece  at  Boncourt  104 

Horse  Line  at  Troussey 104 

Third  Piece  in  Position  near  Paris-Metz  Road  138 

Ruins  of  German  Trench  in  the  St.  Mihiel  Attack 152 

Our  Homes  during  Rest  Period  at  Gommeville 152 

Telephone  Detail  Quarters  at  First  Verdun  Position 176 

Kitchen  in  Death  Valley  176 

View  of  Fort  Douamont  184 

Second  Verdun   Position  184 

French  "90"  192 

French  Long  Range  Gun 192 

Camouflaged  Gun  at  Belleau  Woods  138 


MAPS 

Facing  Page 

Itinerary   32 

Chemin  des  Dames  56 

Toul  Sector 80 

Chateau-Thierry  Sector , 112 

Epieds-Trugny 120 

Ourcq,  Sergy,  Fere-en-Tardenois  128 

St.  Mihiel  Front  160 

The  Verdun  Front  168 


TO  THE  MEN  OF  BATTERY  A  WHO  LAID  DOWN 
THEIR  LIVES  FOR  THE  GREAT  CAUSE, 
THIS  VOLUME  IS   DEDICATED 
,      ,  BY  THEIR  COMRADES 


ffiprncfl  ^U 


JOSEPH    W.    ZWINGE 
DAVIS    0.    LAWRENCE 


E.    NEWELL    RIPLEY 


NORBERT    E.    RIGBY 
E.    CLIFFORD    SAWYER 


leab  on  tl|c  ^itlh  of  l^onor 


CHARLES    R.    ELLIS 


CHARLES   W.    PLUMMER 


EDWARD    A.     HOOPER 


C.    RALPH    FARNSWORTH 


ujljeii  (pane  (![ljeit  All  for  (5l|eir  (Eoutitra 


PHILIP    CUNNINGHAM 


LAURENCE    B.    WILLIAMS 


ELLERY    PEABODY.    Jr. 


SETH    A.     ELDRIDGE 
RAYMOND    L.    HOWLAND 


PREFACE 

When  Battery  A  of  the  101st  Field  Artillery  was 
called  into  Federal  service  during  the  summer  of  1917 
it  had  a  wonderful  past  record  to  uphold  and  carry 
on.  As  the  "offspring"  of  Battery  A  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Volunteer  Militia  its  traditions  and  reputa- 
tion had  been  gradually  growing  and  developing  for 
over  sixty  years.  In  reality  its  History  should  date 
back  to  1853  when  it  first  began  its  official  life  under 
the  name  of  the  Boston  Light  Artillery  Company.  It 
was  not  until  1895,  however,  that  its  career  as  a  mod- 
ernized Artillery  unit  began  to  show  results.  In  that 
year  a  number  of  men  prominent  in  the  business  and 
social  life  of  Massachusetts  completely  reorganized 
the  old  Battery.  They  raised  the  standard  of  its  per- 
sonnel to  a  height  seldom  found  in  a  military  unit. 
Ninety  per  cent,  of  its  members  were  either  college 
graduates  or  undergraduates.  On  account  of  its 
makeup  the  Battery  soon  became  known  as  the  "Mil- 
lionaire Battery"  and  many  were  the  predictions  that 
it  would  not  "make  good."  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  most  of  its  equipment  and  guns  were  an- 
tiquated and  out  of  date,  and  in  spite  of  the  extremely 
limited  opportunities  for  practical  training, — usually 
a  brief  two  weeks  or  so  each  summer,  the  work  of  the 
Battery  improved  rapidly  and  the  men  steadily  in- 
creased their  efficiency. 

From  1900  onward  its  reputation  as  one  of  the 
best, — if  not  the  best  militia  artillery  unit  in  the 
United  States  was  never  doubted.  It  compared  favor- 
ably in  practically  every  respect  with  the  "regulars" 


10  PREFACE 

themselves.  No  better  proof  of  the  above  facts  can 
be  obtained  than  from  the  various  regular  army  offi- 
cers v^ho  had  a  chance  to  witness  its  actions.  In  1904 
the  Regular  Major  who  was  acting  as  umpire  during 
the  summer  manoeuvers  reported  that: 

"This  Battery  must  be  considered  an  excellent 
militia  organization.  I  venture  to  say  that  a  month's 
actual  experience  in  the  field  including  opportunities 
for  target  practise  would  make  it  the  equal  of  any 
regular  Battery  in  the  service." 

Speaking  of  its  personnel,  he  said: 

"In  time  of  war  they  should  be  looked  upon  as 
available  material  for  commissions  in  the  artillery." 

In  the  report  of  another  inspecting  officer  there  is 
the  following  extract : 

"I  can  say  unhesitatingly  that  this  is  the  best 
militia  field  battery  that  I  have  ever  observed." 

In  fact  the  chief  criticism  that  most  army  officers 
made  was  that : 

"The  enlisted  personnel  would  be  too  good  to  hold 
together  in  case  of  war.  They  are  far  superior  to 
their  rank  in  mental,  physical  and  professional  quali- 
fications." 

In  1916,  when  the  call  came  to  go  to  the  Mexican 
Border,  the  Battery  found  a  real  chance  for  demon- 
strating its  ability  and  its  efficiency  under  actual  field 
conditions;  and  there,  as  heretofore,  the  government 
reports  proved  that  its  high  standards  of  excellency 
were  being  well  maintained. 

Upon  the  return  from  the  border  most  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Battery,  benefiting  by  their  recent  train- 
ing, either  tried  for  commissions  at  Plattsburg  and 


PREFACE  11 

the  other  officers*  training  camps  or  else  helped  or- 
ganize the  various  artillery  units  that  were  rapidly- 
springing  up  throughout  the  state.  The  contribution 
of  these  men  to  the  fighting  forces  of  the  United 
States,  as  well  as  of  the  800  or  so  past  members  who 
preceded  them  would  take  a  volume  in  itself.  Some 
day  we  hope  that  their  record  will  be  written  up.  It 
will  show  better  than  anything  else  could  show,  the 
true  worth  of  Battery  A. 

The  spring  of  1917  saw  almost  a  complete  trans- 
formation in  the  personnel  of  the  Battery.  The  old 
one  had  largely  disappeared,  but  the  new  one  that 
sprang  up  rivalled  it  in  practically  every  respect. 
How  it  accounted  for  itself  in  the  great  war,  as  Bat- 
tery A  of  the  101st  Artillery,  of  the  26th  Division,  we 
have  tried  to  show  in  the  pages  that  follow. 

As  a  fighting  outfit  of  the  American  Expiditionary 
Forces,  few  others  can  compare  with  its  record.  It 
was  nineteen  months  in  foreign  service.  It  spent  218 
days  actually  on  the  front,  in  position  against  the 
Germans.  It  was  the  first  National  Guard  unit  to  fire 
against  the  Germans.  It  fired  over  52,000  rounds  dur- 
ing its  action  at  the  front.  Its  casualties  included  13 
killed  and  39  wounded.  Three  of  its  members  received 
The  Distinguished  Service  Cross,  three  the  Croix  De 
Guerre  and  18  were  cited  in  Divisional  Orders. 

In  this  History  we  have  traced  its  progress 
through  the  days  of  its  reorganization  and  rebirth 
during  the  spring  months  of  1917;  through  the  weld- 
ing together  process  at  Boxford;  through  the  trip 
across;  through  the  training  days  at  Camp  Coetqui- 
dan  amidst  the  rain  and  mud  of  "sunny"  France; 


12  PREFACE 

through  its  initial  baptism  of  fire  on  the  famous 
"Chemin  Des  Dames,"  through  the  "Peace  Time  War- 
Fare"  on  the  Toul  Sector;  through  the  never-to-be- 
forgotten  days  of  the  Chateau-Thierry  Drive; 
through  the  St.  Mihiel  Drive;  through  the  last  terri- 
ble struggle  of  the  w^ar  in  front  of  Verdun;  through 
the  trying  and  difficult  period  following  the  armis- 
tice, through  its  homeward  journey  in  a  crowded 
troopship,  its  wonderful  welcome  in  Boston  Har- 
bor and  then  finally  its  last  days  at  Devens  and  the 
demobilization  there. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BOXFORD,  AND  THE  REORGANIZATION  OF 
THE  BATTERY 

/^N  July  25,  1917,  under  summons  of  President 
Wilson,  Battery  A  assembled  at  the  Com- 
monwealth Armory  in  Boston.  There  were  hardly 
more  than  twenty-five  men  who  had  been  in  the  or- 
ganization more  than  four  or  five  months.  The  per- 
sonnel had  changed  almost  completely  during  the 
winter  and  spring  of  1917.  Most  of  the  old  members, 
benefiting  by  their  previous  training  and  experience, 
were  discharged  to  try  for  commissions  at  Officers* 
Training  Camps,  or  else  to  help  organize  the  new 
artillery  units  that  were  springing  up.  March,  April, 
May  and  June  saw  nearly  one  hundred  and  sixty  new 
men  join  the  Battery;  all  very  green  in  military 
knowledge,  but  all  very  keen  to  learn. 

Everyone  had  caught  the  war  enthusiasm.  Al- 
most every  night  drills  were  held  in  the  armory,  and 
on  each  Saturday,  two  or  three  sections  would  hike 
out  to  Belmont  or  Lexington  for  a  week-end  "turn- 
out". These  "turnouts"  probably  did  more  than  any- 
thing else  to  teach  men  the  fundamentals  of  the  ar- 
tillery game.  With  the  Battery's  sixty  horses  and 
its  old  three-inch  guns,  a  great  deal  could  be  accom- 
plished. A  large  percentage  of  the  men  had  never 
ridden  a  horse  before  in  their  lives,  far  less  ever  har- 
nessed or  groomed  one.  Forty-eight  hours  in  camp, 
however,  brought  out  tremendous  changes.     They 


14  BATTERY  A 

soon  learned  how  to  put  on  the  harness,  how  to  fit 
the  saddle,  and  how  to  cinch  it  up  so  that  it  would  not 
slide  off  every  few  minutes.  Experience  was  a  wonder- 
ful teacher.  On  the  first  few  ''turnouts,"  teams  were 
constantly  stopping  and  dropping-  out  because  a  cinch 
had  come  undone,  a  trace  had  unhooked  itself,  a  bit 
had  fallen  out  of  a  horse's  mouth,  or  a  dozen  other 
equally  insuperable  difficulties  had  cropped  up.  But 
the  drivers  quickly  found  out  how  to  solve  their 
troubles ;  how  to  fasten  a  cinch  so  it  would  stay  fast- 
ened; how  to  hook  a  trace  so  it  would  stay  hooked; 
or  how  to  put  on  a  blanket  so  it  would  stay  put.  The 
number  of  things  that  were  necessary  to  know  before 
one  became  even  a  fair  artilleryman  seemed  extraor- 
dinary. When  an  outsider  would  see  an  artillery 
hitch  driving  along,  it  would  look  to  him  as  if  nothing 
could  be  simpler;  so  most  of  the  recruits  had  thought 
before  they  joined;  it  only  took  them  one  short  "turn- 
out," however,  to  convince  them  of  their  mistake. 
The  art  of  driving,  of  harnessing,  of  feeding,  of 
grooming,  of  pitching  and  breaking  camp,  of  stretch- 
ing picket  lines,  of  limbering  and  unlimbering  the 
guns  or  caissons,  and  of  innumerable  other  details 
was  not  so  easy  as  it  appeared.  Little  points  like  put- 
ting on  a  nose  bag  when  the  horse  was  very  hungry, 
or  cleaning  out  his  hind  feet  when  he  did  not  want 
them  to  be  cleaned  out,  or  straightening  out  a  six 
horse  hitch  when  a  couple  of  horses  fell  down  and 
got  tangled  up  in  the  traces,  required  no  little  knack. 
And  so  it  went.  The  mysteries  of  the  army  were 
gradually  revealed.  Each  Sunday  night,  the  men, 
more  dirty  and  tired  than  they  had  probably  ever 


BOXFORD  AND  REORGANIZATION  15 

been  before,  would  get  into  civilian  clothes  again  feel- 
ing more  and  more  like  hardened  veterans. 

On  July  25  the  National  Guard  of  Massachusetts 
vvras  called  out.  Battery  A  quickly  assembled  at  the 
Commonwealth  Armory  in  Boston  and  lost  no  time 
in  getting  ready  for  the  anticipated  campaign  ahead 
of  it.  The  first  morning  was  an  extremely  busy  one, 
sorting  out  the  immense  store  of  old  Battery  prop- 
erty to  determine  the  necessary  equipment  which  we 
expected  to  need  later  on,  and  the  extra  luggage  and 
past  records  which  were  to  be  stored  away  in  some 
warehouse.  While  the  cannoneers  were  working 
hard  in  this  way,  the  drivers  had  harnessed  up  the 
horses  and  hitched  them  to  the  guns,  caissons,  and 
other  rolling  stock  preparatory  to  leaving.  Just  be- 
fore noon  they  pulled  out  for  Boxford,  where  our 
training  camp  was  to  be  established. 

The  rest  of  the  Battery  stayed  in  Boston  over 
night,  and  went  up  by  train  the  next  day.  They  took 
with  them  all  the  supplies,  equipment,  and  excess 
wheeled  material;  an  item  which  took  no  less  than 
four  trucks  to  transport  from  the  armory  to  the  train 
yards.  Noon  found  the  whole  Battery  in  Boxford, 
near  the  flat,  bare  drill  field  formerly  used  by  the  First 
Corps  Cadets.  No  sign  of  a  camp  was  visible.  By 
nightfall,  however,  the  pyramidal  tents  were  up  and 
in  perfect  alignment  along  the  Battery  street,  the 
guns  and  caissons  were  parked  with  mathematical 
accuracy,  and  the  horses  on  the  picket  line  had  marked 
out  their  place  in  the  scheme  of  things  with  tooth 
and  hoof. 

The  first  week  was  seven  days  of  readjustment  in 


16  BATTERY  A 

which  the  various  factors  seemed  to  balance  them- 
selves. Unaccustomed  and  unending  duties  caused 
us  to  fall  asleep  directly  after  taps  without  discom- 
fort in  the  rough  blankets.  The  morning  footdrill 
and  giindrill  brought  around  dinner  hour  all  the 
quicker.  The  afternoon  conditioning  hike  enhanced 
the  attractiveness  of  the  swimming  hole,  and  each 
and  every  detail  finished,  served  as  a  valid  excuse  to 
patronize  the  vendors  of  fruit,  pie,  and  "Lemon  Pop". 
During  that  first  week,  the  first  Sergeant's  office  was 
the  busiest  place  in  the  Battery.  Army  paper  work 
was  at  its  zenith.  The  process  of  being  mustered  into 
federal  service  seemed  to  require  about  every  avail- 
able blank  form  in  the  army  to  be  filled  out  and 
signed, 

Our  transition  into  soldiers  those  first  few  days 
was  made  harder  by  a  terrific  heat  spell  that  blighted 
our  good  nature,  destroyed  our  enthusiasm,  scorched 
our  patriotism,  and  coupled  with  violent  lightning 
storms,  during  one  of  which,  a  tent  was  struck  and 
one  member  of  the  Regiment  was  killed,  made  us  feel 
quite  superior  to  the  French  and  English  in  the 
trenches  of  France,  With  the  return  of  proper  weath- 
er our  natural  spirits  came  back  again;  the  morning 
drills  were  executed  with  snap;  the  afternoon  hikes 
became  competitive  in  character;  and  the  evenings 
were  devoted  to  song  and  boxing.  Each  week  end 
brought  with  it  an  eagerly  looked  forward  to  rest. 
Our  camp  would  suddenly  resemble  a  huge  county 
fair.  Great  crowds  of  parents,  relatives,  and  sweet- 
hearts flocked  out  and  swarmed  over  the  camp  in 
their  efforts  to  see  their  boys.    The  never  ending  jam 


BOXFORD  AND  REORGANIZATION  17 

of  automobiles  made  one  think  of  the  road  to  the 
stadium  on  the  day  of  the  Harvard-Yale  game. 

In  many  respects  our  life  differed  from  the  train- 
ing life  that  was  to  be  universal  in  the  army  canton- 
ments, which  at  that  time  were  merely  paper  plans. 
We  lived  in  pyramidal  tents,  each  one  containing  ten 
canvas  cots  equipped  with  an  alleged  mosquito  net- 
ting almost  impossible  to  adjust ;  our  washroom  was 
the  shore  of  the  lake;  our  kitchen  a  fly-tent  at  the 
mercy  of  the  elements ;  and  our  dining  room  the  place 
where  we  happened  to  sit  down.  Our  training  was 
hampered  and  delayed  by  the  great  amount  of  pioneer 
work  necessary  to  turn  the  wide,  bare  plain  into  an 
encampment  for  a  whole  brigade  of  artillery,  worthy 
of  the  name  of  "Camp  Curtis  Guild".  A  telephone 
system  had  to  be  installed;  gas  engines  had  to  be 
erected  on  the  shore  of  the  lake  to  provide  adequate 
water  facilities;  trenches  for  water  pipe  had  to  be 
dug,  and  the  pipes  laid;  wooden  horse  troughs  had 
to  be  built  and  shower  baths  constructed.  Finally, 
the  term  "detail"  fell  to  such  low  repute  that  when 
it  was  decided  to  build  a  model  dugout  like  those  in 
France, — it  was  called  the  "Colonel's  Dugout", — an 
"Honorary  Detail"  composed  of  non-commissioned 
officers  and  privates,  was  "allowed"  to  build  it.  The 
work,  which  was  done  by  day  and  night  shifts,  en- 
countered a  vast  pit  of  loose  sand  just  below  the  top 
soil  which  necessitated  shoring  every  bit  of  progress 
with  practically  water  tight  planking,  in  order  to  stop 
the  seepage  of  sand.  At  last  the  attempted  dugout 
was  completed  with  stovepipe  and  flooring,  and  we 
lost  our  fear  for  the  life  of  our  Colonel. 


18  BATTERY  A 

Our  drill  periods  were  more  devoted  to  condition- 
ing and  whipping"  everyone  into  good  physical  shape 
than  to  actual  artillery  work.  Hard,  speedy  hikes 
every  day  through  the  neighboring  country,  combined 
with  an  hour's  calesthenics  each  morning  and  long 
periods  of  foot  drill  in  the  broiling  sun,  helped  take 
off  our  extra  weight.  We  did  work  in  some  useful 
training  besides.  The  drivers  had  a  chance  to  prac- 
tise their  grooming  on  what  horses  we  had  and  to 
take  them  out  for  "Monkey  drills",  while  the  can- 
noneers acquired  some  additional  knowledge  of  the 
guns  when  they  were  studying  to  pass  the  gunners 
examinations.  The  Special  Detailists  busied  them- 
selves with  the  problems  of  open  warfare.  They 
would  gallop  out  into  the  country,  pick  out  a  Battery 
position,  establish  the  Battery  Commander's  Station, 
and  work  out  the  necessary  firing  data  for  the  guns. 
The  Scouts  would  map  out  the  roads  and  draw  pano- 
ramic sketches  of  the  surrounding  areas.  The  tele- 
phonists would  lay  out  their  telephone  wires  and  re- 
pair breaks;  while  everyone  in  each  spare  moment 
would  try  to  break  the  speed  record  in  semaphoring 
and  wigwagging. 

On  August  5,  1917  we  were  drafted  into  federal 
service  as  Battery  A,  101st  Regiment  of  Field  Artil- 
lery of  the  51st  Field  Artillery  Brigade  of  the  26th 
Division.  On  August  28  we  held  our  first  real  review 
of  the  whole  Brigade,  before  Governor  McCall,  and 
then  on  August  30  we  held  our  final  review  before 
Major-General  Edwards.  From  the  middle  of  August 
on  we  began  to  realize  that  we  were  not  to  go  to  the 
National  Army  cantonment  then  under  construction 


BOXFORD  AND  REORGANIZATION  19 

at  Charlotte,  South  Carolina,  but  instead  that  we 
would  probably  go  overseas  very  shortly.  Our  ranks 
were  being  filled  up  by  Coast  Artillerymen  from  the 
forts  around  Boston,  Providence,  and  Portland;  our 
equipment  was  kept  limited;  huge  crates  for  harness 
and  excess  paraphanalia  were  being  knocked  together 
and  adorned  with  strange  hieroglyphics  in  red  paint 
that  meant  "Overseas"  to  us.  We  were  advised  to 
send  home  all  personal  property  of  bulk  or  question- 
able necessity,  to  be  exceedingly  careful  to  whom  we 
talked,  to  disclaim  any  knowledge  of  our  destination, 
and  even  to  refrain  from  conjecture  as  to  same.  The 
prospect  of  going  at  once  to  France  put  even  greater 
vigor  and  enthusiasm  into  our  daily  routine.  We 
even  actually  enjoyed  the  long  tedious  lay-out  inspec- 
tions that  took  place  before  our  departure.  We 
painted  our  three-inch  guns  a  beautiful  battleship 
gray  and  saw  them  for  the  last  time  as  they  rattled 
down  the  road  on  their  way  to  the  Watertown  Ar- 
senal. The  harness  was  soaped  and  oiled,  and  finally 
packed  into  crates.  The  freshly  painted  collars  were 
packed  with  the  horse  blankets,  and  gradually  almost 
everything  else  either  followed  the  guns  down  the 
road  or  was  swallowed  up  in  the  packing  cases  for 
shipment  abroad.  The  night  of  September  6  found 
us  loading  our  equipment  into  freight  cars  by  the 
light  of  huge  bonfires  of  papers  and  trash  scattered 
through  the  regimental  area.  When  the  job  was 
finished  nothing  remained  but  our  tents,  sleeping  cots, 
haversacks,  and  blanket  rolls.  At  eleven  o'clock  on 
September  7  every  tent  in  the  Regiment  was  being 
held  erect  only  by  four  men  at  the  corner  guy-ropes. 


20  BATTERY  A 

A  shrill  whistle-blast,  a  flutter  of  brown  canvas,  and 
the  101st  Field  Artillery  Regiment  was  homeless.  By 
noon  our  regimental  camp  had  disappeared.  We  had 
all  been  paid  off.  The  tents  had  all  been  rolled  up  and 
sent  away.  Every  scrap  of  paper  and  cigarette  butt 
had  been  policed  and  we  fell  in,  in  heavy  marching 
order.  Off  at  last !  An  hour  later  and  our  train  had 
pulled  out, — bound  for  New  York  and  somewhere  in 
France ! 


CHAPTER  II. 

EN  AVANT 

n^HE  departure  from  Boxford  was  our  first  experi- 
ence in  secrecy,  but  although  the  newspapers 
were  silent,  a  fair-sized  crowd  was  there  to  watch  us 
entrain  and  give  us  what  send-off  the  circumstances 
allowed.  There  was  no  cheering,  no  speeches,  no 
flag-waving;  the  band  discoursed  wailingly  of  the 
long,  long  trail  over  which  we  were  starting,  and  the 
temperature  made  overcoats  and  horse-collar  rolls  far 
from  comfortable.  Some  of  us,  with  visions  of  trust- 
ing relatives  journeying  to  camp  on  the  coming  Sun- 
day with  all  expectation  of  finding  us  there,  managed 
to  pass  to  the  spectators  notes  which  would  avert 
such  a  calamity,  but  they  were  few.  We  merely 
marched  down  to  the  train  and  climbed  aboard  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way  which  took  the  edge  off  the  whole 
proceeding.  This  was  in  the  afternoon,  Friday,  Sep- 
tember 7,  1917. 

We  rolled  away  past  Lowell,  past  Ayer  and  half 
finished  Camp  Devens  and  through  Worcester,  slink- 
ing along  in  accordance  with  our  orders  to  attract  no 
attention  and  give  no  impression  that  we  were  other 
than  a  band  of  boy  scouts  bound  for  Chautauqua. 
Probably  no  one  saw  the  collar  insignia  of  our  officers 
who  paced  the  station  platforms  at  our  frequent 
stops ! 

It  was  three  o'clock  of  Saturday  morning,  rainy 
and  dark,  when  we  reached  Harlem  River  freight 


22  BATTERY  A 

yards,  but  the  sun  was  out  and  up  before  we  had 
loaded  ourselves  and  baggage  aboard  the  steamer 
"Grand  Republic"  and  headed  out  into  the  East  River 
for  the  trip  around  Manhattan  Island.  The  "Rumor 
Association"  which  had  been  busily  sending  us  to  all 
destinations  from  Halifax  to  a  southern  training 
camp,  now  had  it  straight  that  we  were  to  sail  from 
Hoboken  on  the  "Leviathan",  and  the  last  lurch  and 
wiggle  of  the  steamer  even  seemed  to  point  us  more 
surely  toward  the  piers  where  the  huge  bulk  of  the 
once-German  liner  was  plainly  showing.  Any  en- 
thusiasm over  the  idea  of  making  the  voyage  on  such 
a  ship  was  short-lived,  and  we  gazed  on  the  wreck  of 
another  rumor  as  we  slid  past  a  stern  marked  "Adri- 
atic" and  climbed  off  onto  the  docks  of  the  White 
Star  Line. 

The  "Adriatic",  however,  was  large  enough  to 
satisfy  the  most  exacting  taste,  and  we  were  soon 
filing  aboard  in  pay-roll  order,  each  with  a  card  show- 
ing where  his  quarters  were  and  when  he  messed. 
There  was  some  excitement  when  a  steward  steered 
us  into  the  second  class  compartments,  which  we 
thought  would  do  very  well,  until  we  were  uncere- 
moniously chased  out  and  down  to  our  proper  place 
on  the  third  deck  forward,  fairly  comfortable  barring 
an  insufficiency  of  fresh  air. 

The  "Adriatic"  was  not  exactly  a  transport  but  a 
commercial  vessel  on  which  the  Government  had  en- 
gaged space.  Thus  we  traveled  not  as  troops  but  as 
third  class  passengers:  there  is  some  distinction.  A 
Royal  Mail  Steamer,  however,  is  almost  a  part  of  the 
British  Navy  in  time  of  war.    We  had  a  species  of 


EN  AVANT  23 

state  room  and  although  all  the  regiment  were  not 
so  fortunate,  we  were  not  on  the  whole  crowded.  Be- 
sides ourselves,  there  was  a  part  of  the  102nd  Infan- 
try on  board,  a  hospital  unit,  swarms  of  unattached 
officers,  a  few  civilians,  and  a  most  varied  cargo  said 
to  range  from  gold  bullion  and  explosives  to  barbed 
wire.  We  were  able  to  verify  the  wire,  as  well  as 
two  motor  trucks  on  the  forward  deck,  which  made 
excellent  lounging  places,  and  had  to  take  the  rest  on 
faith.  The  barbed  wire  made  something  of  an 
impression.  It  has  only  one  use  in  war  and  a  very 
definite  grimness  in  the  coils  upon  coils  lowered 
into  the  hold  contrasted  strangely  with  the  every- 
day, self-centered  bustle  of  the  harbor.  There 
was  the  same  clash  between  the  sight  of  crowded 
pleasure  craft  bound  up  the  Hudson  and  the  little 
signs  on  the  "Adriatic"  warning  how  the  display  of 
a  light  at  night  might  "jeopardize  the  safety  of  the 
ship."  It  seemed  as  if  America  had  not  awakened  to 
the  reality  of  the  war  and  that  we  were  bearing  the 
whole  burden  alone. 

Still,  we  hardly  went  about  in  sack  cloth  and 
ashes  on  that  account.  Very  few  of  us  had  ever 
crossed  the  ocean  before,  and  in  spite  of  submarines 
and  all,  the  prospect  of  seeing  foreign  countries  was 
most  alluring. 

At  that  time  the  undersea  warfare  was  just  com- 
ing under  control,  but  it  was  still  a  strong  menace  and 
strict  protective  measures  were  necessary.  We  had 
rigid  orders  against  showing  any  sort  of  light  at 
night,  and  these  extended  even  to  cigarettes  and  il- 
luminated  wrist   watches.     We   understood   better 


24  BATTERY  A 

when  we  learned  that  at  sea  a  lighted  match  can  be 
seen  three  miles  away  at  night.  Nothing  could  be 
thrown  overboard  which  might  float  and  so  give 
away  the  path  of  the  ship.  These  points  were  strongly 
impressed  on  us  before  we  sailed  and,  as  an  added 
safeguard,  we  were  ordered  below  decks  when  the 
"Adriatic"  finally  left  the  harbor  on  September  9. 
Only  those  who  had  seen  us  embark  would  have 
known  that  our  ship  carried  troops. 

We  arrived  at  Halifax  where  we  were  to  join  our 
convoy  for  the  run  through  the  submarine  zone  on 
Tuesday  morning,  September  11.  Its  harbor  was 
crowded  with  ships  besides  those  which  were  to  cross 
with  us:  several  Belgian  Relief  boats  and  a  queer 
Dutch  steamer  with  an  unpronounceable  name  in  big 
letters  on  her  sides.  Before  anchoring  we  had  passed 
the  city  itself  and  it  was  not  in  sight  from  where  we 
lay.  This  was  just  as  well  for  we  had  noticed  a  pier 
marked  "Boston"  which  gave  us  homesick  qualms. 
Our  stay  was  short.  We  wrote  home  letters  to  be  for- 
warded to  Washington  and  released  on  notice  of  our 
safe  arrival  on  the  other  side,  and  just  before  sunset 
on  Wednesday,  when  we  were  beginning  to  tire  of  the 
scenery,  the  convoy  slipped  slowly  down  the  harbor. 
As  we  passed  a  British  training  ship  the  crew  lined 
the  rail  and  her  band  played  the  "Star  Spangled  Ban- 
ner".   Before  dark  we  were  out  of  sight  of  land. 

Our  convoy  comprised  seven  ships  and  an  auxil- 
iary gunboat  which  was  immediately  christened  the 
"Plattsburg  Cruiser."  One  of  the  convoy  was  the 
"Manchuria"  also  carrying  troops  although  we  were 
the  only  representatives  of  the  26th  Division.   There 


EN  AVANT  25 

were  also  the  "Orduna"  and  a  cattle  boat  known  as 
the  "Dummy"  which  heaved  and  pitched  tremendous- 
ly in  rough  water.  Our  speed  was  limited  to  that  of 
the  slowest  boat  of  the  group,  and  probably  never 
exceeded  10  knots  an  hour,  while  our  course  was  a 
bewildering  series  of  zig-zags. 

These  zig-zags  were  an  important  part  of  our  de- 
fensive measures  and  proved  a  most  interesting  feat- 
ure. There  were  apparently  several  zig-zag  combi- 
nations to  be  executed  on  signals  from  the  cruiser, 
given  at  irregular  intervals.  They  ranged  from  sim- 
ple movements  for  quiet  waters  to  an  intricate  set 
of  twists  and  turns  for  the  danger  zone,  when  each 
ship  seemed  to  be  trying  to  sink  as  many  of  the  con- 
voy as  possible  before  she  herself  went  to  the  bottom. 
Many  were  the  hair  raising  moments  when  only  a 
few  yards  separated  two  great  ships  plunging  to  ap- 
parent mutual  destruction,  and  many  were  the  false 
submarine  rumors  which  had  their  being  when  the 
cruiser  turned  suddenly  in  a  new  direction  as  if  some- 
thing suspicious  had  been  sighted  on  the  horizon. 

There  was  not  much  to  do  on  the  ship  but  sleep. 
In  the  morning  we  had  calisthenics,  and  boat  drill  in 
the  afternoon,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  time  waiting 
for  the  dinner  bell.  In  order  to  allow  the  quarters  to 
be  cleaned  we  were  not  allowed  below  decks  in  the 
morning,  and  the  Special  Detail  with  kindred  spirits 
took  that  opportunity  to  get  off  in  choice  corners  of 
the  deck  and  to  perfect  themselves  in  "buzzing" 
and  semaphoring.  Almost  everyone  will  remember 
that.  The  general  complaint  was  that  it  disturbed 
sleepers,  and  it  certainly  was  unfortunate  that  such 


26  BATTERY  A 

dearly  acquired  knowledge  could  never  be  put  to  prac- 
tical use  later.    Such  is  war. 

Two  or  three  days  out  from  Halifax  the  various 
outfits  on  board  were  called  on  to  furnish  extra  sub- 
marine lookouts.  At  night  this  was  unpleasant 
work  for  the  weather  was  often  bitterly  cold,  but  it 
carried  with  it  exemption  from  all  other  duties,  al- 
ways an  advantage.  Each  lookout  had  a  strong  pair 
of  glasses  and  would  doubtless  have  seen  anything 
that  appeared.  The  best  moment  for  sighting  U- 
boats  was  said  to  be  at  night  when  they  lay  on  the 
surface  recharging  their  batteries,  and  theoretically 
visible  two  miles  away. 

Submarines,  of  course,  were  very  much  in  every- 
one's mind,  and  life-boat  drill  was  taken  quite  as  seri- 
ously as  it  deserved.  The  story,  however,  had  it  that 
the  ship's  captain  (who  looked  like  King  George  and 
had  an  excellent  reputation  for  fooling  the  subs)  could 
not  understand  how  we  took  it  all  so  calmly.  Most  of 
the  other  troops  he  had  brought  across  had  spent  all 
their  time  on  deck  with  life  belts  on  from  the  moment 
the  ship  left  port,  while  we  had  not  taken  kindly  to  the 
belts  nor  shown  any  undue  preference  for  the  deck. 

For  all  that,  we  had  plenty  of  nervous  moments. 
There  were  crowds  of  porpoises  following  the  ship, 
and  there  is  nothing  that  looks  more  like  a  torpedo 
that  a  porpoise.  There  was  also  a  surprise  boat  drill 
one  day.  The  signal — five  blasts  on  the  ship's  whistle 
— came  without  a  moment's  warning  and  disturbed 
us,  to  say  the  least.  There  were,  however,  some  who 
claimed  to  have  known  what  it  was  all  along.  Lastly, 
there  was  an  inquisitive  ship  which  might  have  been 


EN  AVANT  27 

almost  anything  unpleasant  and  which  was  finally 
shooed  away  by  the  cruiser. 

The  guard  on  board  the  ship  which  kept  such  order 
as  was  necessary  and  looked  for  suspicious  lights, 
was  furnished  by  each  battery  in  turn.  Our  turn 
happened  to  fall  on  the  night  of  our  entry  into  the 
danger  zone,  the  night  before  our  Naval  escort  picked 
us  up.  An  extra  guard  was  also  posted  to  operate 
water-tight  doors,  and  every  imaginable  precaution 
was  taken  to  cover  our  lights.  Even  the  chart  house 
was  less  brightly  lighted,  though  it  usually  looked  like 
a  store  window  at  Christmas  time;  but  the  number  of 
carelessly  screened  port-holes  seemed  greater  than 
ever.  Up  in  the  first  cabin  it  was  easy  enough  to  spot 
the  source  of  a  light,  but  when  we  saw  a  gleam 
through  a  port-hole  in  the  side  of  the  ship,  it  meant  a 
merry  hunt  until  we  got  it  covered;  sometimes  the 
gleam  would  be  imaginary,  and  sometimes  it  would 
come  from  the  engineers'  mess  where  they  could  not 
see  the  necessity  of  such  a  fuss  anyway.  They  say 
one  of  the  passengers  was  a  German  sympathizer  who 
deliberately  let  a  light  show.  He  was  certainly  care- 
less to  say  the  least. 

Our  entry  into  the  danger  zone  brought  two  inno- 
vations with  it.  First,  we  were  to  stay  on  deck  from 
5.30  in  the  morning  till  8  at  night,  barring  meal  times, 
and  we  were  to  wear  life  belts  at  all  times.  The  half- 
light  of  the  early  morning  makes  observation  very 
difficult  and  such  a  time  is  ideal  for  submarine  attacks. 
Accordingly,  we  got  up  much  earlier  and  remained  at 
our  boat  stations  until  breakfast  time,  when  the  criti- 
cal period  was  considered  past.    As  for  the  lifebelts, 


28  BATTERY  A 

they  were  not  built  for  comfort  and  the  general  opin- 
ion was  that  they  would  be  in  the  way  if  we  ever 
struck  the  water. 

On  the  afternoon  of  that  first  day  we  were  picked 
up  by  our  escort,  eight  British  destroyers.    All  hands 
were  watching  for  them,  and  finally  they  appeared  on 
the  horizon,  tiny  dots  which  grew  and  took  shape  as 
they  came  tearing  up  out  of  the  sky  line  with  their 
dazzling  signal  lights  winking  out  a  message  to  our 
fleet.    They  took  up  their  positions  without  any  fuss 
whatever  and  took  a  load  from  our  minds  at  the  same 
time.     Beside  our  ship  they  looked  like  toys,  but 
very  sinister  toys,  and  whatever  they  did  was  done 
with  an  air  of  confidence  and  efficiency  that  was  most 
reassuring. 

So  we  gradually  drew  near  the  end  of  our  trip. 
We  sufiFered  in  silence    the    food   which    the    crew 
seemed  more  disposed  to  sell  us  between  meals  than 
to  serve  on  the  table.    We  absorbed  all  sorts  of  ru- 
mors: that  we  were  to  pick  up  survivors  of  a  tor- 
pedoed ship,  that  the  4.7  gun  at  the  stern  really  fired 
at  a  submarine  and  not  a  floating  barrel  this  noon, 
that  two  of  our  escort  got  a  U-boat  the  evening  be- 
fore.   At  last,  after  having  passed  within  70  miles 
of  Iceland,  we  came  around  by  the  north  of  Ireland 
and  saw  land  on  the  morning  of  September  22.  Every- 
body remembers  how  good  it  looked;  sheer  clififs  of 
Ireland  rising  out  of  the  water  with  white  farmhouses 
and  deep  green  fields  marked  off  by  white  walls  like 
squares  of  a  checkerboard  visible  as  we  passed  close; 
in  the  distance,  a  black  smudge  on  the  sky  that  they 
said  was  Belfast,  and  once  more  the  open  water  ahead 


EN  AVANT  29 

of  us  with  the  occasional  boats  of  the  submarine  pa- 
trol to  remind  us  where  we  were.  That  morning  we 
had  parted  from  the  fleet ;  our  speed  was  greater  now, 
and  just  after  dark  we  cast  anchor  off  Liverpool, 
where  a  revolving  light  kept  us  company  until  sun- 
rise. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  we  did  not  see  the  sunrise, 
for  there  was  a  fine  mist  to  greet  us  as  we  moved  up 
the  Mersey  to  disembark  on  a  rather  crude  landing- 
stage.  Here  we  had  our  first  glimpse  of  the  British 
army  in  the  shape  of  some  very  shiny  officers  and 
some  hard-boiled  soldiers  with  campaign  ribbons  for 
every  affair  back  to  the  Norman  Conquest.  By  11 
o'clock  we  were  in  trains  of  the  London  &  North- 
western Railway  and  moving  out  through  an  ancient 
country  where  everything  from  railroad  cars  to 
houses  seemed  to  be  in  miniature.  The  land  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  perpetually  brushed  and  combed, 
scrubbed,  shaved,  clipped  and  trimmed,  like  a  garden 
which  was  also  a  place  of  habitation  and  well  cared 
for  in  either  capacity.  We  passed  through  Birming- 
ham, through  Oxford  where  the  towers  of  the  Uni- 
versity showed  through  the  trees  in  the  distance, 
then  Winchester  and  finally,  ground  eight  in  the  even- 
ing, came  into  the  docks  at  Southampton. 

Here  again  the  Rumor  Association  brought  us  the 
story  that  we  were  to  go  on  board  ship  at  once,  but 
we  had  heard  such  things  before  and  were  not  sur- 
prised when  instead  we  piled  blanket  rolls  On  a  motor 
truck  (they  called  it  a  "lorry"  and  made  two  very 
distinct  syllables  out  of  it)  and  marched  three  miles, 
through  streets  dimmed  against  air-raids,  to  a  rest- 


30  BATTERY  A 

camp  on  Southampton  Common.  This  rest  camp  was 
a  remarkable  affair.  Our  part  of  it  consisted  of  small 
conical  tents,  smaller  than  Sibley  tents,  each  having 
a  circular  wooden  floor,  large  enough  for  six  men  but 
accommodating  ten.  To  go  with  the  tents,  we  were 
at  once  issued  blankets,  but  as  soon  as  we  had  drawn 
them  we  were  ordered  to  take  them  back  to  the  store 
house  again.  This  caused  some  hard  feeling  until  we 
learned  that  the  previous  users  had  been  quarantined 
South  African  negro  troops  and  that,  in  the  mean- 
time, there  had  been  no  fumigation. 

The  next  morning  we  found  that  we  were  not  the 
only  American  troops  in  camp,  the  others  being  regu- 
lars from  the  Coast  Artillery.  They  left  early  and  we 
followed  in  the  afternoon,  trying  to  keep  step  with 
the  band  in  which  the  drum  was  half  a  beat  behind  the 
rest  of  the  music,  and  boarded  the  little  steamer 
"Cesarea"  for  one  more  dart  past  the  U-boats.    We 
took  up  every  inch  of  available  space  and  a  man  who 
tried  to  find  a  more  comfortable  spot  than  the  one  he 
occupied  simply  lost  what  he  had:  there  were  no  com- 
fortable spots !  At  dusk  we  slipped  down  the  harbor, 
anchored  outside  to  wait  the  passing     of  a    bright 
moon,  and  dashed  across  the  channel  with  an  escort- 
ing destroyer  to  find  ourselves  at  Le  Havre  bright  and 
early  in  the  morning.    Some  there  are  who  say  a  tor- 
pedo was  actually  fired  at  us  as  we  crossed  and  that 
we  only  escaped  it  by  inches.    It  is  at  least  possible. 
On  the  dock  we  had  breakfast  of  canned  Willie  and 
hardtack  under  the  shadow  of  a  railroad  station  do- 
ing war  service  as  a  hospital,  and  after  satisfying  the 
curiosity  of  stray  members  of  the  Atkins'  family, 


EN  AVANT  31 

marched  another  three  miles  or  so,  this  time  carrying 
blanket  rolls,  past  the  docks  and  warehouses  of  a  huge 
supply  base  and  past  staring  German  prisoners  who 
insisted  that  we  were  nothing  but  English  dressed  up 
to  fool  them,  and  into  another  rest  camp,  this  time  of 
the  hot,  flat  and  dusty  variety  where  we  again  met 
the  regulars  we  had  seen  at  Southampton.  "There 
seems  to  be  no  end  of  you,"  remarked  an  English 
officer,  and  it  was  good  to  answer  that  ten  million 
more  of  us  were  coming. 

If  we  impressed  our  allies  by  our  numbers,  they 
impressed  us  even  more  strongly  by  their  experience. 
We  felt  now  that  we  were  in  the  war  for  fair,  and 
absorbed  with  awe  the  several  outward  signs  of  it ; 
cars  and  trucks  in  camouflage  paint,  aeroplane  parts, 
and  whole  ones  as  well,  besides  many  other  features 
whose  intent  was  perfectly  plain.  Our  self-esteem 
shrank  and  shrank  as  we  talked  to  Tommies  and 
Poilus  whose  vast  knowledge  made  us  feel  more  and 
more  like  earthworms.  One  old  Britisher  who  had 
been  gassed  and  shell-shocked  was  particularly 
gloomy  in  regard  to  our  prospects.  He  regaled  us 
with  harrowing  tales  and  parted  from  us  with  the 
injunction:  "Be  careful,  lads.  'Jerry'  is  a  grand  gun- 
ner!" 

We  stayed  at  Le  Havre  long  enough  to  have  one 
meal  and  also  a  scrap  with  the  regulars  regarding 
priority  rights  at  the  wash-troughs,  and  then  marched 
down  to  entrain.  Somehow  we  couldn't  believe  it  was 
to  be  our  fate  to  ride  in  freight  cars,  having  come 
across  England  third  class,  but  the  horrible  truth  was 
apparent  the  minute  we  $^w  our  train.  When  loaded, 


32  BATTERY  A 

there  were  not  quite  "Hommes  40"  to  a  car,  but  it 
was  too  close  to  that  figure  for  comfort,  and  wooden 
benches  that  were  provided  simply  took  up  valuable 
space  without  making  a  comfortable  seat.  The  ar- 
rival of  a  contingent  of  Australians  returning  from 
hospitals  in  England  furnished  some  diversion.  They 
greeted  us  enthusiastically  and  we  found  them  a  very 
jolly,  likeable  crowd,  with  methods  and  manners  more 
like  our  own  than  like  the  English. 

Finally,  after  dark,  our  train  pulled  out.  We  must 
have  passed  through  Rouen  around  midnight  and  our 
first  daylight  stop  was  at  Laigle,  a  little  town  where 
we  had  some  "cofifee."  Laigle  was  only  a  name  to 
us:  we  did  not  know  where  we  were  nor  what  we 
were  bound  for.  The  dearth  of  rumors  was  alarm- 
ing, and  it  was  a  relief  to  learn  at  last  that  our  des- 
tination was  Guer,  near  which  there  was  an  artillery 
training  camp.  Guer  was  in  Brittany,  and  further 
training  seemed  very  desirable  when  we  thought  of 
various  stories  we  had  heard  at  Le  Havre.  Conse- 
quently, we  were  not  altogether  discontented,  and  the 
weather  being  good  and  the  scenery  interesting,  we 
spent  a  very  pleasant  day.  We  passed  Alencon  and 
Laval,  with  their  orderly  rows  of  white  stone  houses, 
and  about  five  o'clock  rolled  into  Rennes,  where  the 
local  Red  Cross  brought  us  out  some  very  welcome 
hot  soup. 

As  darkness  came  and  the  evening  chill  set  in,  we 
closed  the  side  doors  of  the  cars,  and  squirming  into 
less  cramped  positions,  slept,  soothed  by  the  steady 
rumble  of  the  wheels  beneath. 


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CHAPTER  III. 

THE  TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP 
COETQUIDAN 

A  FTER  the  tedious  ride  of  thirty  hours  in  the 
'^^  French  "Pullmans"  (8  chevaux — 40  hommes), 
our  train  finally  came  to  a  stop  at  midnight  Septem- 
ber 26  when  everyone  was  roused  from  slumber  and 
told  to  get  out.  The  name  of  this  place  was  of  no  in- 
terest at  all  to  us  just  then,  but,  as  we  learned  later,  it 
was  Guer.  Our  first  experience  in  French  troop  trains 
had  been  a  very  exhausting  one  so  that  sleep  was  the 
primary  consideration.  After  lining  up  and  calling 
roll,  the  command  "at  rest"  was  given;  whereupon  the 
Battery  sank  to  the  ground  in  its  tracks  and  went 
sound  asleep  without  even  removing  equipment. 

In  about  an  hour  the  order  came  to  start  for  camp. 
About  200  yards  from  the  station  large  trucks  were 
waiting.  "Standing  room  only"  applied  here;  for- 
tunately the  ride  was  not  very  long.  The  trucks, 
however,  did  not  land  us  at  our  barracks:  there  was 
what  seemed  several  miles  of  marching,  although  ac- 
tually about  half  a  mile,  to  reach  our  first  "home"  in 
France.  In  spite  of  cement  floors,  everyone  again 
fell  asleep  at  once.  The  next  morning  we  were  al- 
lowed to  sleep  until  eight  o'clock,  a  very  unusual  oc- 
currence in  the  army.  We  were  also  given  the  day 
ofif  to  recuperate  from  the  trip. 

The  camp  where  we  were  to  get  our  training  was 
named  Coetquidan.  It  was  situated  in  the  depart- 
ment  Ile-et-Vilaine  in   Brittany,   about   forty   kilo- 


34  BATTERY  A 

meters  south  of  Rennes,  and  about  30  kilometers  east 
of  St.  Nazaire,  the  big  sea-port.  An  interesting  his- 
torical fact  about  the  camp  is  that  it  was  founded  by 
Napoleon.  More  recently  it  had  been  used  as  a  firing 
ground  for  experimental  and  captured  guns.  Being 
the  first  arrivals,  the  101st  F.  A.  was  quartered  in 
the  old  original  barracks.  These  were  one-story 
stone  structures  with  the  cement  floors  mentioned 
above.  As  the  camp  grew,  a  great  many  wooden 
buildings  of  the  Adrian  type  were  put  up,  until  it 
could  hardly  be  recognized  as  the  camp  to  which  we 
came. 

The  neighboring  country  was  very  diflFerent  from 
New  England.  No  fences  could  be  seen,  but  hedges, 
earth  banks,  or  rows  of  trees  separated  the  lots.  The 
land  was  divided  into  apple  orchards  and  pastures 
with  an  occasional  patch  of  brush  or  clump  of  pine, 
giving  the  eflfect  of  a  rather  shabby  checker  board  in 
diflFerent  shades  of  green.  The  camp  was  situated  on 
the  shoulder  of  a  sort  of  plateau  which  sloped  slowly 
up  from  Guer,  descended  sharply  into  a  valley  then 
rose  more  gradually  into  hills  covered  by  fine  forests 
chiefly  pine  and  oak. 

Most  of  this  opposite  slope  constituted  the  range. 
Several  deserted  villages  aflForded  excellent  targets  as 
did  the  corners  of  hedges  and  a  road.  Since  the  ter- 
rain sloped  back  from  the  crest,  there  were  plenty 
of  positions  for  indirect  firing.  In  fact,  the  slightly 
rolling  nature  of  the  country  was  almost  ideal  for  an 
artillery  range. 

The  first  impression  of  France  upon  the  Battery 
was  universally  good.    The  people  were  very  cordial 


TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP  COETQUIDAN      35 

and  the  few  french  soldiers  appeared  interested  in  us. 
Very  near  the  camp  was  Coquinville,  a  row  of  houses, 
chiefly  cafes  and  "galeries  militaires,"  all  making 
their  living  off  the  soldiers.  Needless  to  say,  the 
Americans  patronized  them  freely.  At  the  small  vil- 
lages of  St.  Malo  de  Beignon,  Beignon,  and  Guer,  all 
within  a  radius  of  five  kilometers,  we  could  buy  choco- 
late, cheese,  butter  occasionally,  a  little  "confiture" 
or  jam,  and  small  needs  like  candles,  shoe-brushes, 
briquets,  etc.  At  that  time,  the  villages  were  inter- 
esting and  picturesque  with  the  stone  houses  and 
red  tile  roofs.  We  had  not  had  the  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  dirty  streets,  manure  piles,  gloomy  hay- 
lofts and  narrow-minded  inhabitants  that  we  later 
enjoyed.  The  presence  of  some  2,000  German  pris- 
oners dressed  in  shabby  Grey  or  vivid  Green  with 
P.  G.  printed  on  the  seats  of  their  pants  made  the 
war  seem  closer. 

The  first  couple  of  weeks  we  had  neither  guns  nor 
horses;  therefore  most  of  the  time  was  devoted  to 
conditioning.  There  was  also  much  practice  by  the 
entire  Battery  in  "flag-flapping,"  (signalling  with 
flags)  it  being  the  mistaken  idea  that  every  man 
should  be  an  expert  signaller.  Many  short  hikes 
around  the  country  were  taken,  made  pleasanter  by 
frequent  long  hedges  of  blackberries  growing  along 
the  roads,  waiting  to  be  eaten  at  every  halt. 

It  became  a  custom  to  get  passes  on  Sunday  in 
order  to  walk  to  some  town,  take  dinner,  and  conie 
back  in  the  afternoon.  Many  trips  were  made  to 
Phelan,  Paimpont,  Augan,  Campeneac,  and  even 
Ploermel,  20  kilometers  distant.     The  first  of  these 


36  BATTERY  A 

trips  was  a  memorable  affair.  On  the  first  Sunday 
in  camp  when  we  were  expecting  a  good  loaf,  a  "com- 
pulsory pleasure"  hike  was  instituted.  The  trip  was 
to  Paimpont,  about  eight  kilometers,  to  see  a  very  an- 
cient Abbey  there.  In  trying  to  make  a  short  cut,  the 
Battery  succeeded  in  adding  two  kilometers  to  the 
distance  and  the  pace  set  by  Captain  Huntington  will 
long  be  remembered.  The  Abbey,  however,  was  very 
interesting,  dating  from  1200,  with  fine  carving  and 
good  windows.  We  also  found  a  store  with  French 
bread,  jam  and  cheese  which  made  a  better  meal  than 
the  hard-tack  and  "willy"  we  were  carrying. 

Besides  these  Sunday  passes,  nearly  every  man 
in  the  Battery  had  one  pass  to  Rennes  during  the 
stay  at  Coetquidan.  These  were  only  from  6  a.  m.  to 
taps,  but  even  this  short  time  gave  a  great  relief 
from  the  monotonous  routine  of  camp  life.  There 
were  movies,  street-cars,  and  the  excellent  French 
pastry  which  had  not  yet  been  entirely  def endu.  Per- 
haps the  greatest  luxury  was  to  get  a  room  at  the 
Hotel  Moderne  and  take  a  real  bath  in  a  real  bath 
tub.  Rennes  is  not  a  large  city  nor  particularly  beau- 
tiful, but  was  a  welcome  sight  to  our  eyes  after  St. 
Malo,  Beignon,  etc.  Even  the  tiresome  ride  in  the 
narrow-gauge,  toy  train  did  not  prevent  our  going  a 
second  time  if  possible. 

When  we  first  arrived  at  Coetquidan,  the  organi- 
zation for  feeding  was  very  poor.  Only  French  bread 
was  available,  frequently  not  even  that.  For  meat 
there  was  "willy"  or  else  fresh  killed  local  beef,  tough 
and  stringy.  Mess  was  regimental;  that  is,  all  bat- 
teries ate  from  the  same  kitchen,  and  there  were  long 


TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP  COETQUIDAN      37 

periods  of  waiting  in  line  while  it  seemed  that  every 
other  battery  went  through  ahead.  That  period  will 
always  be  remembered  as  the  worst  fed  of  any.  Con- 
tinuous "slum",  bacon,  and  "canned  Bill"  with  an 
O.  D.  liquid  called  coffee  was  the  opposite  of  appe- 
tizing and  certainly  not  nourishing  as  half  the  bat- 
tery were  made  sick  by  it.  Fortunately  this  only 
lasted  until  October  13,  when  the  batteries  started 
to  mess  separately.  Gradually  supplies  came  through 
better  and  better  until  we  were  feeding  very  well  at 
the  end.  Incidentally,  the  Battery  fund  helped  a 
great  deal  in  buying  extras.  All  will  remember  Mess 
Sergeant  Joe  Wilner  rushing  around  "for  the  good 
of  the  BatVy". 

As  living  on  the  regular  mess  was  almost  impos- 
sible, every  one  financially  able  ate  at  least  one  meal 
per  day  at  one  of  the  cafes.  The  most  popular  ones 
were  La  Chapelle,  Montauban,  and  the  Hotel  Belle- 
vue.  Patrons  of  La  Chapelle  will  remember  plump 
little  "toot  sweet — toot  sweet"  with  her  "feeneesh", 
"na  ploo"  and  "demain."  At  first,  prices  were  very 
reasonable.  Omelettes  of  ten  to  twenty  eggs  were 
common  at  50  centimes  (10  cents)  per  egg.  A  good 
helping  of  beef  or  veal  cost  one  or  one  and  a  half 
francs.  There  was  some  butter,  "confitures"  while 
they  lasted,  cheese  and  some  poultry.  But  the  Amer- 
icans quickly  ate  up  all  the  surplus  food  in  the  region, 
so  that  prices  went  rapidly  up.  The  French  were  not 
slow  in  noticing  that  the  American  soldier  had  con- 
siderable money  and  would  pay  almost  any  price, 
partly  from  desire  to  buy,  partly  from  ignorance  of 
proper  values.    Although  at  the  time  we  did  not  con- 


38  BATTERY  A 

sider  our  quarters  and  living  conditions  anything  re- 
markable, later,  when  at  the  front  we  appreciated 
their  comfort  and  would  willingly  have  been  back. 
Everyone  had  a  cot  with  springs  and  mattress.  Each 
room  had  one  or  two  stoves  for  which  coal  was  issued. 
Commencing  with  October  19,  there  were  electric 
lights  (when  they  weren't  out  of  order),  the  wiring 
having  been  done  by  the  men  since  their  arrival.  There 
was  also  the  luxurious  "Salle  des  Bains"  where  we 
could  indulge  in  tub  baths.  All  these  advantages, 
coupled  with  practically  no  night  work,  made  it  a 
comparatively  soft  life  in  spite  of  the  drill  schedule 
from  "first  call"  at  5 :45  a.  m.  to  "retreat"  at  4:30  p.  m. 

At  our  arrival,  the  Battery  was  completely  green. 
The  month  at  Boxford  had  afforded  practically  no 
experience  of  value.  The  mechanism  and  fire  of  the 
French  "75"  had  to  be  mastered.  The  drivers  had  to 
learn  how  to  care  for  their  horses  and  take  the  car- 
riages over  any  kind  of  ground  or  fences.  The  offi- 
cers had  the  administration  of  the  Battery  and  prep- 
aration and  conduct  of  fire  to  learn.  Methods  of  com- 
munication and  use  of  fire-control  instruments  were 
unknown.  For  the  instruction  of  all  this,  there  were 
several  French  oflficers  who  had  seen  much  service, 
and  a  number  of  men  from  the  First  Division  who  had 
had  some  experience  at  the  Front,  mostly  gunner  cor- 
porals, to  teach  the  gun-crews  and  telephone  men. 
Schools  for  telephone  and  wireless  were  established, 
but  it  may  be  noted  that  these  taught  very  little  that 
was  of  practical  worth. 

On  October  6  the  guns  arrived.  These  were  the 
famous  French  75  millimetre  guns  of  which  we  had 


TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP  COETQUIDAN      39 

heard  so  much.  We  soon  realized  why  their  reputa- 
tion was  so  great.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  two 
of  these  guns  lasted  with  us  through  all  our  fighting. 
One  fired  14,000  rounds,  the  other  12,000  rounds.  No 
drill  regulations  had  been  published  in  English  and 
very  few  in  French  were  available.  A  provisional 
gun-drill,  however,  was  arranged,  and  work  began  on 
October  8.  Starting  from  the  beginning,  the  first 
problems  were  simple,  direct  firing  with  direct  ob- 
servation, while  the  officers  learned  how  to  bracket  a 
target  and  judge  the  bursts  correctly.  This  gradu- 
ally changed,  as  we  learned  the  game,  into  more  com- 
plicated firing.  As  horses  did  not  arrive  until  later, 
the  guns  were  drawn  out  on  the  range  by  auto  trucks. 
Coetquidan  had  its  full  share  of  rich  French  mud; 
therefore  it  was  a  common  sight  to  see  trucks  and 
guns  stuck  all  over  the  range. 

By  the  10th  of  November  horses  were  issued  to 
the  Battery;  whereupon  the  training  approached  ac- 
tual war  conditions.  Guns  were  taken  around  by  the 
horses,  eliminating  most  of  the  getting  stuck,  al- 
though there  were  enough  accidents  to  harness  and 
poles,  to  give  the  caisson  corporals  a  chance  to  use 
their  ingenuity.  Reconnaissance  could  be  properly 
carried  out.  The  men  assigned  to  driving  were  given 
more  of  an  object  in  life  than  watching  the  drill  of 
the  cannoneers. 

The  inexperience  of  the  drivers  in  their  first  strug- 
gles with  those  "beamish"  creatures,  the  horses,  led 
to  many  humorous  accidents,  but  fortunately  none 
more  serious  than  to  give  someone  a  couple  of  weeks' 
rest  on  account  of  a  lame  leg.  Of  all  the  horses,  "Lil" 


40  BATTERY  A 

of  the  old  7th  Section  was  the  most  notorious.  Prob- 
ably half  the  Battery  received  souvenirs  of  her  heels, 
for  she  was  naturally  vicious  and  ignorance  of  her 
personality  was,  to  her,  no  excuse  for  the  proximity 
of  any  human  being.  Her  regular  driver,  Clarence 
Smith,  developed  a  more  or  less  safe  way  of  harness- 
ing, but  not  wholly  according  to  drill  regulations.  One 
day  Major  Richardson  noticed  that  the  harnessing 
was  unusual  and  went  up  to  correct  it.  But  "lese 
majeste"  meant  nothing  to  "Lil"  who  planted  a  solid 
heel  in  the  Major's  stomach.  Upon  explanation,  he 
agreed  that  under  certain  conditions  the  drill  regu- 
lations could  give  way  to  "Safety  First." 

One  of  the  greatest  bores  of  existence  was  the 
watering  of  the  horses.  The  trip  to  the  troughs  by 
the  muddy  road  in  every  variety  of  weather  with 
from  two  to  six  unruly  horses  was  anything  but 
pleasant.  Many  were  the  splashings,  falls,  and  curses. 
The  old  7th  Section  will  also  remember  Charlton's 
wild  trips  back  to  the  stables  when  "Pete"  and 
"Shrimp"  were  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  their  oats.  He 
wouldn't  let  go  of  their  heads,  but  his  feet  touched  the 
ground  perhaps  every  twenty  or  thirty  yards.  One 
cold  day  in  the  winter  when  the  troughs  were  frozen, 
the  Battery  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  "fish-pond"  be- 
low St.  Malo.  One  of  the  newly  "issued"  Lieuten- 
ants was  in  charge.  In  the  midst  of  proceedings, 
his  saddle  slipped  badly  and  he  dismounted  more  or 
less  gracefully.  The  horse  was  nervous,  and  in  trying 
to  hold  him,  the  Lieutenant  stepped  over  the  bank 
into  water  up  to  his  neck.  No  harm  done,  but  much 
laughter. 


TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP  COETQUIDAN      41 

With  the  arrival  of  the  horses  came  the  necessary 
instruction  in  equitation.  Up  to  the  last  month,  bat- 
tery drills  were  considered  of  primary  importance,  no 
pure  equitation  drills  being  given,  but  the  last  month 
considerable  time  was  spent  on  it.  It  was  not  at  all 
a  popular  job  with  the  officers ;  therefore,  usually  the 
reserve  officers  were  "stuck."  A  great  many  of  them 
knew  much  less  of  horsemanship  than  the  men  they 
were  instructing,  and  frequently  were  unfortunate  in 
their  choice  of  men  to  criticise.  The  climax  was  when 
Lieutenant  Clarke  and  Sergeant  James  were  cor- 
rected on  some  minor  point,  both  in  the  same  after- 
noon. This  was  greatly  enjoyed  as  those  two  men 
were  probably  the  best  horsemen  in  the  Regiment. 

A  month  after  our  arrival,  General  Pershing  came 
to  the  camp  to  inspect  the  101st  Regiment  F.  A.  This 
was  a  typical  affair  of  its  kind.  Originally  ordered  for 
11.45,  we  waited  in  formation  for  about  an  hour.  Then 
we  were  dismissed  for  mess.  Finally  the  inspection 
occurred  about  two  o'clock.  While  not  confirmed, 
there  was  a  very  persistent  rumor  than  the  General 
commented  on  the  Regiment  as  being  a  troop  of  "Boy 
Scouts  in  Burlap." 

The  two  holidays,  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas, 
were  suitably  celebrated  by  tremendous  meals  and 
entertainments  by  Battery  talent  in  the  evening.  For 
some  time  before  each,  the  country  and  nearby  cities 
were  scoured  for  turkey,  vegetables,  fruit,  etc.  Holly 
and  mistletoe  were  plentiful,  as  well  as  evergreens 
with  which  the  mess-shack  was  decorated  for  the  oc- 
casions. By  Christmas,  we  had  constructed  a  large 
stone  fireplace  in  the  mess-shack  where  it  was  very 


42  BATTERY  A 

pleasant  to  sit  around  "swapping  stories"  and  eating 
the  apples  kindly  sent  by  Mr.  Chapin. 

In  the  course  of  instruction,  the  telephone  men 
paid  the  penalty  of  being  the  first  in  the  camp.  They 
dug  the  system  of  wire  trenches  which  they  were 
taught  should  be  done  in  every  sector.  They  had  to 
put  up  the  poles,  string  the  wires,  and  construct  the 
centrals  for  most  of  the  telephone  system  through- 
out the  camp  and  range.  Along  the  same  line,  the 
Battery  had  to  put  up  some  of  its  own  and  officers' 
quarters. 

On  the  third  of  January  the  Battery  received  the 
first  "issue"  of  reserve  officers.  These  were  the  grad- 
uates of  the  first  series  of  Officers'  Training  Schools 
who  had  been  to  Saumur,  the  French  Artillery  School, 
and  now  were  assigned  to  various  outfits  in  France 
for  experience  with  the  men.  They  were  regarded 
with  a  certain  distrust  and  resentment  by  the  men 
and  therefore  their  life  was  not  very  comfortable. 

During  this  training  period  there  were  numerous 
changes  in  the  personnel  of  the  Battery.  Sergeant 
Blackmur  and  Corporal  Furness  finally  heard  from 
examinations  which  they  had  taken  before  leaving 
Boxford,  and  were  commissioned  with  the  Regular 
Army.  Furness  was  assigned  to  the  First  Division, 
and  fought  the  war  with  Battery  C  of  the  7th  F.  A. 
After  its  being  rumored  for  some  time,  Sergeants 
Storer,  Knauth,  and  Durant  received  commissions  in 
the  Regiment.  Lieutenant  Storer  was  assigned  to 
A  Battery,  Lieutenant  Knauth  to  B  Battery,  and 
Lieutenant  Durant  to  D  Battery.  At  the  same  time, 
Lieutenant  F.  Knauth  was  transferred  to  C  Battery, 


TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP  COETQUIDAN      43 

being  replaced  by  Lieutenant  MacNamee.  Lieutenant 
Kirwan  was  transferred  to  Headquarters  Co.,  as  was 
Lieutenant  Plummer.  The  next  change  was  when 
Sergeants  Merriam  and  Hoar  were  sent  to  Saumur, 
November  25.  Lastly,  Sergeant  Gammell  received  a 
commission  in  the  Intelligence  Department.  This 
left  the  battery  with  "Rip"  Gage  as  top  Sergeant,  and 
Sergeants  Johnson,  Kunhardt,  Bird  (acting),  DeVeau, 
Catton,  Ripley,  James,  and  Faulkner  as  section  chiefs 
in  numerical  order.  Beck  was  Signal  Sergeant;  Al- 
len, acting  Instrument  Sergeant;  Wilner,  Mess  Ser- 
geant; Tornrose,  Stable  Sergeant;  Fall,  Supply  Ser- 
geant. 

One  of  the  big  events  of  the  four  months  was  the 
Bazaar  given  by  the  Red  Cross  ladies  of  Rennes.  It 
was  held  in  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  building  December  15-16. 
In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  French  girls  could  not  talk 
English,  nor  could  many  of  the  soldiers  talk  French, 
it  was  a  great  success  if  judged  by  the  amount  of 
money  spent.  Possibly  curiosity  to  see  what  the 
much-talked-of  "mademoiselles"  looked  like  added  to 
the  attendance.  They  did  look  very  pretty  in  their 
trim  Red  Cross  uniforms. 

In  the  meantime,  training  was  steadily  progress- 
ing. The  cannoneers  became  expert  in  firing  the 
pieces.  The  drivers  learned  to  take  their  carriages 
everywhere  and  to  handle  horses  properly  in  all  sit- 
uations. From  direct  firing  on  simple  targets,  we 
took  up  indirect  firing,  studied  the  proper  shell  and 
fuse  to  use  on  different  targets,  had  problems  simu- 
lating actual  conditions,  and  even  practiced  rolling 
barrages.    The  officers  learned  to  prepare  fire  very 


44  BATTERY  A 

accurately,  taking  account  of  weather  conditions,  etc. 
They  had  practice  in  forward,  lateral,  and  bi-lateral 
observation.  From  battery  problems  there  came  bat- 
talion, regimental,  and  finally,  brigade  problems. 

After  being  rumored  and  rather  dreaded  for  over 
a  week,  our  first  "J  Day"  was  ordered  in  a  regular 
operations  order.  The  whole  procedure  for  a  drive 
was  carried  out.  The  ground  was  reconnoitered  by  the 
Colonels,  Majors,  then  Battery  Commanders  with 
their  Special  Details.  The  guns  were  pulled  into  posi- 
tion the  day  before  and  "registered"  for  the  barrage. 
The  actual  firing  was  very  simple — one  shot  per  min- 
ute for  thirty  minutes  with  regularly  lengthening 
range  for  the  rolling  barrages.  This  was  the  first 
chance  given  to  see  the  results  of  a  concentration  of 
fire  on  any  area.  It  was  an  interesting  sight  to  see 
the  opposite  slope  fairly  smoking.  The  barrage  by 
the  "75's"  gradually  crept  over  the  fields,  hedges,  and 
lines  of  dummy  trenches.  The  "155's"  played  on  the 
ruined  towns,  or  neutralized  suspected  enemy  bat- 
teries and  machine-gun  emplacements.  It  gave  a 
very  good  conception,  on  a  small  scale,  of  a  real 
attack. 

Just  previous  to  "J  Day"  there  was  the  big  inspec- 
tion to  judge  whether  the  brigade  was  ready  for  ac- 
tive service.  This  was  by  far  the  worst  of  its  kind 
we  had  been  through.  Including  the  preliminary 
washing,  cleaning  and  policing  of  persons,  harness, 
guns  and  barracks,  it  spoiled  a  good  three  days.  The 
rumor  then  was  that  General  Lassiter  was  satisfied, 
but  recommended  another  month  of  training.  Soon 
it  became  evident  we  would  not  go  to  the  front  im- 


TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP  COETQUIDAN      45 

mediately,  for  a  rather  different  system  of  training 
was  instituted. 

In  this  new  phase  much  attention  was  paid  to  open 
warfare;  that  is,  ever  changing  conditions  involving 
rapid  shift  of  position  and  preparation  of  fire.  Prob- 
lems were  given  on  the  shortest  notice.  The  Battery 
would  start  out  with  no  orders  beyond  being  at  a 
specified  place  at  a  certain  time.  There  the  situation 
was  explained,  whether  it  was  an  advance  or  a  re- 
treat, and  missions  given  the  different  batteries.  Only 
roads  affording  concealment  from  enemy  observation 
could  be  used.  Competition  between  the  batteries 
to  be  able  to  report  "ready  to  fire"  was  very  keen  at 
first.  Another  "J  Day"  was  successfully  accomplished. 
Finally,  there  was  fire  adjustment  by  aeroplane  and 
by  balloon. 

On  these  open  warfare  problems  the  "Detail"  was 
rather  envied  by  the  Battery.  As  soon  as  the  Cap- 
tain received  his  instructions,  he  blew  three  blasts  on 
his  whistle.  At  this  signal,  they  would  go  full  gallop 
from  the  end  of  the  line  to  the  head,  and  sometimes 
all  the  way  to  the  position  without  slowing  down. 
Why  no  one  was  badly  thrown,  tearing  through  un- 
derbrush over  slippery,  frozen  ground  has  never  been 
explained. 

At  the  same  time  practice  was  given  on  all-day 
road-hikes.  The  hardest,  yet  most  interesting,  was 
that  of  January  9  when  half  the  Battery  went  to 
Paimpont  and  back  through  Les  Forges  and  the  Foret 
de  Paimpont.  The  day  before  about  four  inches  of 
snow  had  fallen  and  the  ground  was  frozen,  leaving 
the  roads  in  the  most  treacherously  slippery  condi- 


46  BATTERY  A 

tion  possible.  It  was  by  far  the  severest  test  the 
drivers  had  undergone,  but  they  rose  to  the  situation 
wonderfully.  Even  going  down  the  steep  hill  north 
of  the  camp,  there  was  very  little  trouble,  although 
there  were  few  horses  who  did  not  fall  at  least  once. 
In  the  Foret  de  Paimpont  was  some  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful scenery  imaginable.  As  in  all  French  forests, 
the  trees  were  perfectly  trimmed  and  all  underbrush 
cleared  away.  Every  bough  and  twig  was  fringed 
with  snow  and  the  ground  spotless  white,  a  sharp 
contrast  with  the  dark  green  pine  needles.  At  one 
place  the  road  led  down  a  straight  incline  where 
could  be  seen  in  front  and  behind,  the  whole  column 
with  the  bright  red  guidons  standing  out  sharply 
against  the  khaki  and  white.  It  was  a  sight  not 
quickly  forgotten.  However,  as  usual  in  the  army, 
this  pleasant  ride  was  changed  suddenly  by  "can- 
noneers on  the  wheels"  and  a  hard  tug  to  get  the  guns 
back  up  the  hill  to  camp. 

The  other  half  of  the  Battery  went  a  week  later 
on  a  trip  through  Louiteshel,  Maxent  and  Guer.  And 
there  was  one  more  trip  to  Phelan,  Les  Forges  and 
Beignon.  Neither  of  these  was  so  interesting  as  the 
first.  Still,  everywhere  different  things  came  up,  giv- 
ing the  drivers  more  and  varied  experience. 

Thus  we  completed  our  preliminary  training  for 
service.  Looking  back  on  it,  it  seems  that  the  Bat- 
tery received  as  much  instruction  as  possible  without 
actual  experience  on  the  front.  The  cannoneers  could 
fire  rapidly  and  accurately.  They  had  some  practice 
in  preparing  gun-pits.  The  drivers  knew  how  to  han- 
dle their  horses  and  could  put  the  guns  and  caissons 


TRAINING  PERIOD  AT  CAMP  COETQUIDAN      47 

wherever  necessary,  and  the  officers  had  a  good  the- 
oretical training  in  picking  out  positions,  conduct  of 
fire  and  observation. 

Throughout  the  stay  at  Coetquidan,  the  Battery's 
health  wsls  uniformly  good  in  spite  of  much  of 
France's  "best  w^eather."  Several  men  had  severe 
bronchitis  and  coughs  but  there  were  no  deaths.  For 
about  six  weeks  commencing  December  18,  the  Regi- 
ment was  quarantined  on  account  of  several  cases 
of  spinal  meningitis  in  the  2nd  Battalion,  but  no  one 
in  the  Battery  was  affected.  It  was  very  fortunate 
that  at  this  time  packages  were  still  coming  in  from 
America.  Otherwise  we  should  have  been  very  short 
of  tobacco,  chocolate,  etc.,  while  cut  off  from  oppor- 
tunities to  buy  them. 

As  in  all  army  life,  one  of  the  chief  diversions  was 
swapping  rumors.  Some  of  the  wildest  are  worth 
mentioning.  At  the  beginning  the  general  impres- 
sion was  that  we  would  train  at  Coetquidan  for  4-6 
months  before  going  by  gradual  stages  to  the  front. 
The  last  of  October,  a  man  claimed  he  saw  the  sched- 
ule for  the  next  6  months,  and  it  included  4  weeks 
at  the  front.  On  October  24  a  rumor  sprang  up  that 
Mexico  and  Japan  had  declared  war  on  the  United 
States,  and  that  we  were  to  return  within  a  week. 
Towards  the  end  of  November  rumors  became  thick 
that  we  should  leave  very  soon,  probably  for  the  re- 
gion around  Chaumont  where  the  infantry  were. 
These  grew  thicker  in  the  first  part  of  December  but 
suddenly  died  out.  About  December  15  came  the 
first  of  the  many  rumors  that  the  101st  F.  A.  would 
go  home  as  instructors  after  a  short  stay  at  the  front. 


48  BATTERY  A 

Later  on  we  expected  our  own  officers  to  go  to  school, 
while  we  had  "Plattsburgers"  for  a  time.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  January  we  began  again  to  talk  of  leaving. 
About  the  same  time  the  first  of  the  peace  rumors 
came  along.  Lastly,  on  January  24,  we  suddenly 
heard  that  there  would  be  no  newspapers  for  five  days 
on  account  of  Austria's  acceptance  of  peace  terms. 

After  numerous  contradictory  reports,  the  orders 
finally  came  in  for  us  to  leave.  We  spent  January  31 
in  packing  up  and  cleaning  out  the  barracks.  As  usual 
they  were  left  cleaner  than  we  found  them.  As  roll- 
ing packs  was  still  a  fearsome  job,  we  did  them  up 
during  the  day  and  slept  in  our  overcoats.  The  next 
morning  we  rose  at  5:30  and  tore  around  wildly  to 
harness  and  hitch. 

At  7:45  the  Regiment,  in  battle  array  with  guns, 
caissons,  tin  hats,  gas  masks,  (and  misgivings)  took 
the  road  for  the  front,  the  entire  camp  in  silence 
watching  us  go  by; — green  with  envy,  yet  very  glad 
of  their  sure  night's  sleep. 


SHELL    TORN    CHURCH    AT    CHASSEMY    IN    SOISSONS    SECTOR 


THE    SECOND  SECTION    GUN    PIT    ON    THE    CHEMIN 

DES     DAMES.  FEBRUARY.     1918.        SHOWING     SAND 

BAG     WALLS  AND     1-4     INCH     CORRUGATED     IRON 

ROOF.       THE  GUN     IS      -LAID-     ON    THE    NORMAL 
BARRAGE 


THIRD    PIECE    AT    COETQUIDAN    MANNED    BY    ITS    GUN    CREW 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHEMIN  DES  DAMES 

A  FTER  a  short  hike  from  Camp  Coetquidati,  we 
"^^  reached  the  station  at  Guer  about  noon.  For 
hours  we  waited,  while  other  units  entrained.  Event- 
ually our  turn  came,  and  we  drew  into  the  freight 
yards.  The  loading  platform,  or  ramp,  was  a  solid 
embankment  of  stone  and  cinders  retained  by  con- 
crete walls.  A  sloping  roadway  led  from  the  ground 
to  either  end  of  the  ramp,  which  was  somewhat  less 
than  a  hundred  yards  long  and  fifteen  wide.  As  the 
track  ran  alongside,  it  brought  the  floor  of  a  freight 
car  on  a  level  with  and  only  a  few  inches  from  the 
surface  of  the  ramp.  The  train  that  was  to  carry 
Battery  A  was  waiting  on  the  track,  and  we  began 
entraining  at  once.  The  flat  cars  were  in  the  middle, 
and  the  ridiculously  small  box  cars  were  at  both  ends 
of  the  train,  extending  well  beyond  the  ramp.  Al- 
though these  "soap  boxes  on  wheels"  were  marked 
"40  Hommes-8  Chevaux,"  it  seemed  impossible  at 
first  to  force  in  such  a  number.  Later  we  were  to 
learn  that  there  is  absolutely  no  limit  to  the  number 
of  men  that  can  be  put  into  a  box  car.  Guns,  caissons, 
and  wagons  were  driven  up  on  the  ramp.  The  horses 
were  then  unhitched,  and  led  off  to  be  unharnessed. 

This  first  stage  completed,  the  hard  part  began. 
Short,  heavy  gangways  were  put  into  position,  run- 
ning from  the  ground  to  the  car  doors.  The  horse 
that  did  not  at  once  take  a  violent  dislike  to  these  cat- 
tle cars  was  a  rare  exception.  The  great  majority  ob- 
jected strongly  to  so  much  as  setting  foot  on  the 


50  BATTERY  A 

gangway.  Then  the  drivers  were  forced  to  call  on 
all  their  reserve  patience,  resource,  and  strength. 
Some  of  the  horses  were  blindfolded  and  led  into  the 
car  before  they  realized  where  they  were.  Others 
were  lead  as  far  as  possible,  and  then  induced  by 
well  applied  boots  and  whips  to  continue  farther. 
The  most  stubborn  were  pushed  and  dragged  into 
the  cars,  backed  into  place  with  the  others,  and  tied 
by  their  halter-ropes  to  rings  in  the  roofs. 

Meanwhile,  the  guns  and  caissons  had  been  packed 
on  the  flat  cars  and  securely  lashed  in  place.  Rolling 
the  heavily  loaded  wagons  from  the  ramp  on  the  short 
French  cars  was  more  difficult.  There  was  not  room 
enough  to  turn  the  wagons,  and  it  was  practically 
necessary  to  lift  the  whole  wagon  to  get  it  properly 
placed.  But  there  is  an  end  to  all  things,  and  at  last 
the  train  started  on  its  way:  toward  the  front  was 
all  we  knew;  Lorraine,  Belgium,  anything,  seemed 
possible. 

In  the  box  cars  the  men  were  arranging  their 
equipment  and  spreading  on  the  floor  what  little  hay 
they  had  been  able  to  lay  hands  on.  In  each  horse  car 
two  drivers  were  left  as  guards  to  look  after  the 
animals.  It  was  their  duty  to  feed  the  horses, 
straighten  out  the  tangles  they  got  into,  and  generally 
try  to  keep  perfect  peace  among  8  nervous  and  fright- 
ened steeds.  Three  times  a  day  when  the  train  made 
a  stop  of  15  minutes  or  more  at  some  station,  the 
drivers  turned  out  and  carried  buckets  of  water  to 
the  thirsty  horses.  At  the  same  time,  coffee  made  in 
the  rolling  kitchen  on  one  of  the  flat  cars  was  served. 
Doubly  welcome  it  was,   to  combat  the  cold  that 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  51 

chilled  us  through,  and  to  wash  down  the  hard-tack 
and  corned  "Willie"  that  were  distributed  as  travel 
rations. 

The  next  afternoon  found  us  moving  towards 
Soissons  through  country  scarred  by  crumbling 
trenches  and  rusted  wire.  A  little  before  sunset  we 
detrained  just  outside  of  Soissons.  Unloading  is  a 
much  quicker  process  than  loading,  but  the  lack  of 
proper  ramps  here  forced  us  to  lower  the  guns  from 
car  to  ground  by  hand,  without  any  loading  platforms. 
Here  the  familiar  winding  roads  and  hedges  of  Brit- 
tany were  exchanged  for  long,  straight  roads,  flanked 
by  tall,  slender  poplars.  Houses  shattered  by  shell 
fire  and  air  raids,  and  signs  "Abri  20  Personnes," 
"Cave — 40  Personnes"  showed  that  we  were  truly  in 
the  war  zone.  As  we  entered  the  city  in  the  early 
darkness,  an  air  raid  alarm  sent  French  soldiers  and 
civilians  scurrying  to  shelter.  In  the  darkness  and 
cold  we  parked  guns  and  wagons.  Then  the  drivers 
rode  off  to  stables,  located  they  knew  not  where,  to 
unharness,  water  and  feed  the  horses.  Eventually 
the  whole  Battery  made  their  way  to  the  Abbey  of 
Soissons  Cathedral.  In  this  historic  building,  which 
had  housed  troops  through  a  score  of  wars,  we  spent 
the  night. 

Preceded  by  a  reconnaissance  detail,  the  Battery 
left  Soissons  early  next  morning.  As  we  marched 
along  the  road  between  the  borders  of  poplars  that 
are  so  much  a  part  of  every  French  landscape,  some 
one  shouted  and  pointed  toward  the  sky.  High  over- 
head, surrounded  by  white  puffs  of  shrapnel,  we  could 
just  discern  several  German  aeroplanes.     Soon  the 


52  BATTERY  A 

sky  was  filled  with  tiny,  white  clouds,  but  the  Ger- 
mans flew  back  to  their  lines  unharmed.  In  Sermoise, 
the  first  village  through  which  we  passed,  not  a  build- 
ing had  escaped  the  touch  of  war.  Crowds  of  French 
soldiers  watched  us  curiously,  but  no  civilians.  To- 
wards noon  we  reached  Chassemy,  even  more  bat-, 
tered  than  Sermoise,  and  went  on  to  a  nearby  wood. 
Here  stables  and  wooden  barracks  of  the  Adrian  type 
had  been  built  for  us.  As  these  barracks  could  hold 
only  a  part  of  the  Battery  the  rest  took  to  the  tumbled 
down  dugouts,  of  which  the  woods  were  full.  Al- 
though the  only  building  materials  obtainable  were 
scraps  of  old  iron  and  tar-paper,  these  Robinson 
Crusoe  huts  soon  became  the  most  exclusive  resi- 
dences. Water  oozed  from  the  mud  everywhere,  but 
a  long  trip  was  necessary  to  obtain  any  for  drink- 
ing, cooking,  or  washing.  The  horses  had  to  be  taken 
half  a  mile  to  a  small  brook  for  water.  As  the  Amer- 
ican supply  service  in  this  sector  was  not  yet  organ- 
ized, it  was  even  more  difficult  to  obtain  rations  or 
other  supplies. 

The  following  day,  February  4,  a  reconnaissance 
party,  made  up  of  two  officers,  the  instrument  and 
signal  sergeants,  and  the  two  scout  corporals,  left 
for  the  front  at  four  in  the  morning.  There  was  some 
speculation  as  to  the  purpose  of  their  trip,  but  no  one 
believed  that  we  would  actually  go  to  the  front  for 
at  least  a  week.  Late  that  afternoon  they  returned. 
Although  a  day  of  climbing  muddy  hills  had  exhaust- 
ed them,  excitement  concealed  their  fatigue.  We 
were  to  go  into  position  that  very  night ! 

Great  was  the  disappointment  when  it  was  found 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  53 

that  everyone  could  not  go.  Only  the  gun  crews, 
some  of  the  telephone  and  instrument  men,  three  ma- 
chine gunners,  one  scout,  two  cooks,  and  two  me- 
chanics could  go.  The  greater  part  of  the  Battery 
had  to  remain  there  in  the  woods  to  form  the  echelon, 
a  term  we  borrowed  from  the  French.  It  included 
the  drivers,  and  all  cannoneers,  telephonists,  instru- 
ment men,  mechanics,  and  cooks  not  required  at  the 
front.  The  stables,  or  picket  lines  for  the  horses, 
were  also  a  part  of  it  as  were  the  caissons  and  wag- 
ons, rolling  kitchen  and  water  cart.  The  echelon, 
which  is  generally  just  out  of  range,  serves  as  a  base 
of  supplies  from  which  all  ammunition,  food,  water, 
and  other  materials  are  sent  to  the  firing  battery  at 
the  front.  The  firing  battery  consists  of  about  fifty 
men  at  a  time — ^just  enough  to  fire  the  guns  and  main- 
tain communications. 

After  a  couple  of  hours  of  frantic  preparations, 
the  firing  battery  started  for  that  strange  place  of 
which  we  had  heard  so  much  and  yet  knew  so  little, 
the  front.  It  was  still  light  as  we  passed  through 
Chassemy  and  on  towards  the  river  Aisne.  We 
crossed  the  Aisne  at  Vailly.  Once  a  beautiful  and 
prosperous  town,  Vailly  had  suffered  heavy  bombard- 
ments. Great  holes  were  torn  in  the  walls  and  roofs 
of  buildings.  Here  and  there  a  cellar  filled  with  tum- 
bled masses  of  masonry  marked  a  house  completely 
destroyed.  Yet  the  streets  were  in  good  repair. 
French  soldiers  from  balloon  and  truck  companies 
were  comfortably  settled  in  patched-up  houses,  and 
French  army  stores  and  bathing  plants  gave  an  air 
of  stability  to  the  half-destroyed  town.     Continuing 


54  BATTERY  A 

on  our  way  in  the  gathering  darkness,  we  wound 
along  the  road  to  Ostel.  Five  or  six  kilometers  be- 
yond Vailly,  we  came  to  a  cross-road  where  a  large 
sign  bore  the  word,  "Ostel."  Presumably  this  was  the 
village  of  Ostel ;  yet  we  had  to  peer  into  the  darkness 
intently  before  we  saw  the  heaps  of  stone  that  told 
us  men  had  once  had  their  homes  there.  From  Guy 
Empey  and  various  war  correspondents,  we  had 
learned  of  the  "hell"  that  Sherman  made  famous. 
Stories  of  gas  and  H.E.  (high  explosive)  shells,  shrap- 
nel, and  whizz-bangs  were  uppermost  in  our  minds. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  not  until  we  halted  on  the  steep 
hill,  just  below  our  position,  that  any  shells  fell  near 
us.  Now  the  Boches  began  shelling  a  French  battery 
position  beside  us. 

Although  no  splinters  reached  us,  the  whine  and 
crash  of  the  shells  made  any  orders  to  work  fast  quite 
unnecessary.  No  lights  of  any  sort  could  be  used, 
because  of  the  danger  of  observation  by  Boche  aero- 
planes. By  skillful  driving,  the  four  guns  were 
brought  safely  past  trenches,  shell  holes,  and  barbed 
wire  to  the  gun  pits.  As  rapidly  as  possible  we  put 
the  guns  into  position,  and  unloaded  the  two  wagons 
that  carried  kitchen,  anti-gas,  and  personal  equip- 
ment, telephones,  observing  instruments,  and  tools. 
Then  we  sought  our  dugouts.  Nor  was  this  quite  as 
easy  as  it  sounds.  It  was  pitch  dark.  Trenches 
wound  in  all  directions,  and  the  dugouts  were  lo- 
cated here,  there,  and  everywhere. 

This  position,  we  found,  had  been  built  by  the 
French  but  had  been  abandoned  for  some  time.  As 
long  as  we  could  preserve  the  camouflage  of  aban- 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  55 

donment,  we  would  probably  escape  shelling.  The 
gun  pits,  though  not  even  splinter-proof,  were  dry 
and  ready  for  immediate  use.  The  dugouts,  too,  were 
dry,  fitted  with  bunks  and  safe  against  ordinary  shell- 
ing. Several  thousand  rounds  of  ammunition  were 
stored  in  dumps  scattered  about  the  position.  There 
was  a  kitchen,  half  dugout,  half  shed,  ready  for  use. 

About  a  kilometer  in  front  of  us,  on  the  same 
ridge,  was  the  famous  road  which  gave  its  name  to 
the  whole  sector,  the  Chemin  des  Dames.  Only  in 
name,  however,  was  it  a  road;  a  sign,  placed  by  the 
French,  was  the  only  thing  that  distinguished  it  from 
the  rest  of  that  shell-plowed  ridge.  Directly  behind 
us  lay  Ostel,  and  several  kilometers  farther  back,  the 
Aisne.  No  matter  where  one  looked,  the  view  recalled 
the  terrific  battle  that  had  been  waged  ten  months 
before,  when  the  French  crossed  the  Aisne  and  cap- 
tured the  Chemin  des  Dames.  Shell  hole  lapping  shell 
hole,  rusty  wire,  blackened  stumps,  and  bits  of  old 
equipment  formed  the  landscape.  Running  through 
our  position,  the  Boyau  Schonniker,  an  old  German 
communication  trench,  was  a  constant  reminder  that 
the  Boches  had  been  there  before  us. 

The  9th  Battery  of  the  51st  Regiment  of  French 
Field  Artillery  was  in  position  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  us,  ready  to  help  us  whenever  we  might 
need  them.  We  were  brigaded  with  the  11th  French 
Army  Corps,  and  all  our  orders  came  from  them. 

It  was  the  night  of  February  4  that  we  went  into 
position.  The  next  morning  the  whole  Battery  hiked 
to  Vailly  to  go  through  the  gas  chamber.  A  gas  cham- 
ber is  simply  an  air-tight  room  used  in  training  troops 


56  BATTERY  A 

against  gas.  We  entered  the  room  and  put  on  our 
French  masks.  A  large  amount  of  gas  was  then  re- 
leased. An  instructor  explained  that  the  gas  in  the 
chamber  was  stronger  than  any  we  should  ever  en- 
counter at  the  front.  As  we  had  not  noticed  it  at  all 
with  our  masks  on,  we  felt  that  we  had  very  little 
to  fear  from  gas.  Next  each  man  changed  to  his 
English  mask,  holding  his  breath  during  the  process. 
As  soon  as  we  found  that  we  were  equally  safe  with 
our  English  masks,  we  left  the  chamber.  The  French 
masks  we  were  using  were  made  up  of  a  great  many 
layers  of  gauze,  saturated  with  chemicals.  Two  mica 
eyepieces  gave  us  fair  vision.  The  English  mask,  or 
box  respirator,  was  very  similar  to  the  American 
mask,  which  was  later  issued. 

Upon  our  return  from  Vailly,  the  guns  were  laid 
on  the  Moulin  Rouge;  that  is,  so  pointed  in  range 
and  direction  that  a  shot  should  strike  the  Moulin 
Rouge.  In  the  afternoon  we  gathered  around  the 
first  piece,  the  guidon  was  hung  up  in  the  gun  pit,  a 
message  chalked  on  the  first  shell.  At  3 :45  p.  m., 
February  5,  the  first  shot  fired  in  action  by  the  Na- 
tional Guard  crashed  into  the  German  lines.  The  first 
piece  fired  until  its  exact  range  and  deflection  for  the 
Moulin  Rouge  were  known,  and  then  the  other  three 
pieces  in  turn  were  fired  on  the  same  target.  The 
first  piece  gun  crew  which  fired  the  first  shot  con- 
sisted of  Sgt.  James,  Cpl.  Abbott,  Pvt.  1st  class 
Lawrence,  Pvts.  Martin  and  Sawyer.  Of  these  men, 
all  but  Abbott  were  later  killed  or  wounded.  The 
shell  case  of  the  first  shell  fired  was  presented  to  Col. 
Sherburne,  and  eventually  was  sent  to  the  Governor 


■muuB  I iipi,wjgiii}Hiaw«^ 


MMII^Iiiiin  nii  *   liMiliM^^ 


iK 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  57 

of  Massachusetts. 

From  then  on  we  did  very  little  firing,  but  a  great 
deal  of  work.  The  firing  was  mainly  harrassing,  or 
sniping,  directed  from  some  observation  post ;  the 
work,  construction  of  dugouts  and  improvements  of 
the  gun  pits.  From  5.30,  when  we  dragged  ourselves 
out  of  bed,  till  darkness  fell,  rest  was  unknown.  We 
stumbled  down  hill  with  our  gas  masks  on,  took  them 
oflF,  and  trudged  up  again,  carrying  sandbags,  timbers, 
iron,  or  ammunition.  This  system  was  very  efficient 
for  we  never  wasted  a  breath.  We  simply  never  had 
any!  This  morning  gas  drill  was  supplementary  to 
the  regular  gas  drill  and  inspection  of  masks  which 
came  later  in  the  day.  The  French  regarded  us  with 
amazement  akin  to  horror.  That  any  sane  beings 
should  do  such  an  amount  of  unnecessary  work  was 
to  them  inconceivable.  Indeed,  we  wondered  at  times 
if  we  had  not  joined  a  labor  battalion  by  mistake. 
We  did  but  little  firing,  we  never  smelt  gas  outside  the 
gas  chamber,  we  suffered  no  real  casualties.  It  was 
truly  a  "bonne  petite  guerre"  except  for  the  work, 
work,  work. 

Despite  our  apparent  madness,  the  French  liked 
us.  In  turn,  we  found  the  French  soldiers  exceedingly 
likeable,  far  different  from  the  civilians  around  Coet- 
quidan.  They  had  plenty  of  "Pinard,"  the  red  wine 
issued  to  the  French  army;  we  had  plenty  of  tobacco. 
Over  "Pinard"  and  cigarettes,  stories  of  the  war  and 
of  America  passed  back  and  forth. 

In  a  dugout  in  Ostel,  hidden  beneath  a  pile  of  rub- 
bish, we  found  a  French  army  co-operative  store.  All 
along  the  front  these  exchanges    have   been   estab- 


58  BATTERY  A 

lished  by  the  French  government  to  sell  at  cost  to  the 
soldiers.  There  we  were  able  to  buy  enough  jam, 
butter,  and  cheese  to  make  our  own  rations  palatable. 
Although  the  rich  Americans  often  bought  out  the 
store  to  the  last  can,  the  French  soldiers  never  com- 
plained, never  reminded  us  that  this  was  a  French 
canteen  run  by  the  French  Government  for  the  French 
Army.  Yet  French  soldiers  could  not  buy  even  a 
cigarette  in  our  Y.  M.  C.  A.'s. 

All  this  time  we  were  learning  more  and  more 
about  the  Boche  and  his  wily  ways.  We  had  picked 
up  bits  of  Boche  equipment,  looked  over  positions 
they  had  left,  and  watched  their  shells  burst.  What 
we  most  wanted,  however,  was  to  see  them  in  the 
wild  state,  that  is,  not  prisoners,  but  within  their  own 
lines.  Consequently,  everyone  was  anxious  to  go  out 
to  the  Observation  Post. 

On  the  way  out,  the  first  500  yards  lay  in  the  open. 
Then  one  entered  the  Boyau  Barret,  a  deep,  well-kept 
communication  trench.  For  more  than  a  kilometer 
it  twisted  toward  the  front  line.  A  narrow  duck- 
board  walk  ran  along  the  bottom  of  the  trench,  past 
dugouts,  under  a  narrow-gauge  railroad,  past  a  sign 
that  marked  the  Chemin  des  Dames,  and  finally  to  a 
second-line  infantry  trench. 

A  few  hundred  yards  down  this  trench  lay  O.  P. 
(observation  post)  Renard.  Two  dugouts,  built  deep 
into  the  hillside,  and  an  iron  box  with  slits  for  obser- 
vation built  into  the  side  of  the  trench,  formed  this 
O.  P.  Peering  out,  we  could  see  a  deep  valley  through 
which  ran  the  Aisne  canal  and  the  Ailette  river  in 
front  of  us,  and  then  another  ridge.  The  valley  was 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  59 

No  Man's  Land;  the  opposite  hill  was  in  German 
possession.  To  the  left,  within  our  lines,  lay  Fort 
Malmaison,  Pargny,  and  Pargny  Filain,  Directly  be- 
fore us,  at  the  foot  of  the  opposite  hill  was  Chevrigny. 
Farther  up  the  hill,  and  slightly  to  the  left,  Monamp- 
teuil  lay  in  ruins.  From  this  O.  P.  the  Battery  was 
registered  on  the  Moulin  Rouge  in  its  first  firing. 

The  first  step  in  registering  a  gun  on  any  target, 
is  figuring  the  range  and  direction  from  the  map. 
The  gun  is  fired  and  the  shot  observed  from  some  O. 
P.  Corrections  are  then  made  in  elevation  and  de- 
flection until  the  shots  are  falling  on  the  target.  The 
actual  readings  of  the  guns  are  then  compared  with 
the  corresponding  map-ranges  to  establish  a  con- 
stant ratio  which  may  be  applied  to  any  target  pro- 
vided the  same  ammunition  is  used. 

On  clear  days  we  could  see  small  parties  of  Boche 
moving  about  back  of  their  lines,  and,  away  in  the 
distance,  the  spires  of  Laon  Cathedral.  The  75  is 
ideal  for  sniping,  and  this  was  a  new  and  enjoyable 
game  to  us.  Consequently,  many  an  unwary  Boche 
was  rudely  disturbed  by  the  shriek  of  a  75  coming  all 
too  straight  toward  him. 

At  first  we  had  expected  a  sniper's  bullet  if  we 
dared  raise  an  eyebrow  above  the  trench,  but  we 
soon  learned  better.  In  our  turn,  we  came  to  smile 
at  the  staflf  officers  who  occasionally  stole  stealthily 
down  the  trench,  whispering  warily,  their  shiny  boots 
mud-stained,  tin  hats  new  and  uncomfortable  looking. 

On  February  23,  the  Battery  fired  a  barrage  in  the 
26th  Division's  first  raid.  The  mission  of  the  artillery 
in  a  raid  is  to  neutralize  the  enemy's  batteries  and 


60  BATTERY  A 

machine  guns  with  gas  and  H.  E.,  blind  their  O.  P.'s 
with  smoke  shell,  cut  off  the  objectives  from  rein- 
forcements, and  lay  down  a  protective  barrage  in 
front  of  the  advancing  infantry.  Battery  A  was  one 
of  the  batteries  assigned  to  fire  this  "rolling  barrage," 
the  most  diflficult  of  all.  Errors  of  any  kind  may 
mean  death  to  the  doughboys  following  behind  the 
barrage.  All  watches  were  carefully  synchronized 
beforehand,  that  no  accidents  might  occur  through 
differences  in  time.  The  raiding  party  was  composed 
of  French  infantrymen  and  volunteers  from  the  101st 
Infantry. 

We  were  all  up  and  ready  that  morning  well  be- 
fore the  barrage  was  to  start.  As  we  waited  in  the 
darkness  for  the  word  to  fire,  the  only  sounds  were 
the  low  voices  of  the  men  talking  in  the  gun  pits  and 
the  occasional  click  of  shell  against  shell  as  the  am- 
munition was  cleaned  and  greased.  A  moment  of 
silence,  the  command  to  fire  rang  out,  and  a  score  of 
batteries  fired  as  one.  The  crash  of  the  guns  shook 
the  dugouts  and  sent  gravel  rattling  down  the  walls 
of  the  trenches.  Brilliant  flashes  lit  up  the  position 
as  our  guns  fired.  Wherever  one  looked,  short,  sharp 
flashes  marked  other  batteries  firing  in  the  raid. 
Through  the  noise  of  the  guns,  one  could  occasionally 
hear  the  snap  of  the  breech  closing,  and  the  clanging 
of  the  empty  shell  cases  tossed  out  of  the  way.  Some- 
times it  became  almost  quiet.  Then  suddenly  a  dozen 
flashes  broke  out  of  the  darkness,  a  dozen  reports 
followed,  and  so  the  barrage  continued.  Over  our 
heads,  rumbled  the  shells  from  the  heavy  batteries 
behind  us. 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  61 

The  infantry  brought  back  23  prisoners  including 
two  officers;  a  large  number  for  a  raid  of  this  sort. 
This  was  excellent,  but  better  still,  our  barrage  had 
been  faultless.  Our  reputation  for  accuracy  was  es- 
tablished, never  to  be  destroyed.  From  that  day  on 
the  infantry  swore  by  the  101st  artillery,  and  not  at 
them,  as  so  often  happens.  As  mutual  confidence  be- 
tween infantry  and  artillery  is  a  vital  factor,  the  im- 
portance of  this  first  barrage  can  be  easily  seen. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Boches  had  shelled  the  val- 
ley back  of  us  several  times  with  big  shells.  Com- 
pany A  of  the  101st  Engineers  had  probably  been  ob- 
served in  their  position  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Al- 
though most  of  the  shells  had  exploded  in  the  mud  at 
the  bottom  of  the  valley,  the  splinters  had  struck  all 
about  our  position.  As  a  result,  two  men  in  the  Bat- 
tery were  slightly  wounded,  our  first  casualties,  and 
four  men  cited  by  General  Edwards  for  work  on  the 
telephone  lines  under  heavy  fire.  A  splinter  pierced 
the  trail  of  the  4th  piece,  making  a  hole  that  was  the 
pride  and  joy  of  the  entire  gun  crew. 

A  few  days  later  we  were  called  on  for  a  defen- 
sive barrage.  The  promptness  with  which  our  guns 
replied  to  their  rocket,  increased  the  doughboy's  ad- 
miration for  the  artillery.  Indeed,  when  a  barrage 
was  called  for,  the  guns  usually  spoke  while  the  rock- 
et was  still  in  the  air. 

While  all  this  was  happening  at  the  active  posi- 
tion, an  old  German  position  a  kilometer  or  so  to  our 
rear  had  been  taken  over  by  Lt.  Clarke,  Lt.  Storer, 
and  a  score  of  men.  They  were  to  reconstruct  it  with 
a  view  to  its  use  as  a  reserve  position.    The  dugouts 


62  BATTERY  A 

were  palatial  beyond  our  dreams,  but  there  was  a  lot 
of  work  to  be  done  on  the  gun  pits.  The  dugouts, 
built  into  the  side  of  a  ravine,  were  safe  against 
anything  but  a  direct  hit  by  a  very  big  shell. 
Although  the  electric  lights  and  pictures  which  had 
once  graced  these  dugouts  had  now  disappeared,  they 
still  boasted  tile  floors,  wall  paper,  and  bunks.  When 
all  the  work  had  been  completed,  "Camp  Putter",  as  it 
was  called,  was  used  as  a  convalescent  home  for  the 
Battery's  invalids.  Besides  its  luxurious  dugouts, 
"Camp  Putter's"  chief  points  of  interest  were  a  cable 
conveyor  for  supplies,  a  large  number  of  hand  gren- 
ades and  other  explosives  useful  for  impromptu  cele- 
brations, and  the  grave  of  Meyer,  a  famous  German 
flyer. 

St.  Patrick's  day  was  appropriately  celebrated  by 
a  raid.  The  objective  was  the  Pont  Oger,  a  German 
strong  point.  In  addition  to  the  artillery  and  infantry 
in  the  raid,  a  detachment  from  Co.  A  of  the  101st 
Engineers  took  part.  Their  work  was  to  bridge  a 
canal  in  No  Man's  Land. 

March  began  with  a  snow  storm.  Before  the  snow 
fall  had  ceased,  the  occupants  of  the  officers'  P.  C. 
(post  of  command),  telephone  dugout,  and  first  pla- 
toon dugout,  had  moved  to  others  in  course  of  con- 
struction. The  second  piece  gun  crew  was  marooned 
in  its  gun  pit.  These  steps  were  necessary  to  avoid 
giving  away  the  locality  of  the  position  by  paths  in 
the  snow.  The  other  dugouts  and  gun  pits  could  be 
reached  from  trenches  where  the  paths  did  not  show. 
In  addition  to  these  precautions,  the  whole  Battery 
in  single  file  made  paths  in  the  valley,  away  frorri  any 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  63 

positions,  to  try  and  draw  Boche  fire.  After  three  days 
of  cold,  the  sun  came  out  and  quickly  melted  the  snow. 
As  soon  as  it  had  gone,  we  moved  back  to  our  regu- 
lar dugouts. 

The  sunny  weather  did  away  with  the  snow  but  it 
brought  the  German  aviators  in  swarms.  They  ap- 
peared at  daylight  and  hung  over  us  till  long  after 
dark.  The  fire  of  anti-aircraft  and  machine  guns  did 
not  disturb  them  in  the  least,  and  the  French  flyers 
were  too  few  in  number  to  accomplish  anything.  A 
score  of  times  each  day  the  irregular  drone  of  a  Ger- 
man plane  would  come  to  one's  ears.  A  moment  later 
the  "antis"  and  machine  guns  would  begin  firing 
madly,  but  ineffectively. 

Our  last  days  in  the  position  were  spent  in  "polic- 
ing" it  thoroughly.  In  other  words,  we  carefully  col- 
lected and  buried  all  the  odds  and  ends  that  had  col- 
lected in  the  last  six  weeks.  Our  orders  were  that  not 
a  scrap  be  left  that  showed  the  position  had  been  oc- 
cupied. Every  last  sack  of  "Bull,"  every  old  letter, 
every  piece  of  equipment  was  cleaned  up.  Our 
friends  from  the  French  9th  Battery  nearby  came 
over  to  say  farewell,  and  promised  to  write.  To  them 
we  gladly  gave  all  the  tobacco  we  could  not  carry 
with  us. 

On  March  18,  we  pulled  out  from  our  position,  ar- 
riving at  Camp  Landry,  as  the  echelon  had  been 
named,  shortly  after  midnight.  Despite  many  diflft- 
culties,  great  improvement  had  been  made  there  since 
our  arrival  in  February.  Bunks  had  been  built  in  the 
barracks,  the  stables  improved,  and  a  shack  for  the 
kitchen  built. 


64  BATTERY  A 

At  the  echelon,  the  first  work  of  the  day  is  feeding 
the  horses.  After  breakfast  the  horses  are  groomed 
and  watered.  Again  at  noon  they  are  fed  grain.  Fi- 
nally, just  before  supper,  they  are  watered  and  fed 
hay  and  grain.  It  is  after  dark,  however,  that  a 
driver's  real  work  begins.  After  supper  the  caissons 
set  out  for  the  ammunition  dumps.  After  being  load- 
ed there,  they  start  on  the  trip  up  to  the  firing  bat- 
tery. As  soon  as  they  arrive  there,  the  cannoneers 
are  routed  out  to  unload  and  carry  the  shells  to  the 
dumps  in  the  position,  while  the  drivers  start  back 
to  the  echelon  to  get  to  bed  as  fast  as  possible. 

In  the  morning  of  March  19,  all  preparations  for 
the  coming  trip  were  completed.  Rumors  of  a  long 
road-hike  and  possibly  divisional  maneuvers  were 
persistent.  To  ofifset  these  unpleasant  tales,  there 
were  also  rumors  of  a  long  rest  in  a  mythical  paradise 
called  "permanent  billets."  That  afternoon  we 
marched  over  the  road  to  Soissons  in  a  pouring  rain. 
We  reached  the  city  after  dark, — cold,  wet,  and  hun- 
gry. Without  delay  we  started  entraining,  but  the 
shortness  of  the  loading  platform,  and  the  absence  of 
lights  made  the  task  difficult.  It  was  then  that  some- 
one discovered  a  "Y"  girl  serving  coffee  and  apples  in 
the  freight  shed:  nor  could  she  have  come  at  a  better 
time.  Her  cheerful  smile  and  the  hot  coffee  sent  us 
back  to  work  with  renewed  energy.  Eventually  the 
last  horse  was  dragged  aboard,  the  last  wagon  lashed 
in  place,  the  last  bale  of  hay  distributed.  After  a  rush 
to  get  a  last  cup  of  coffee,  we  climbed  into  our  cars 
and  the  train  rolled  out  of  Soissons.  Going  to  bed 
was  a  simple  affair.    You  simply  wedged  yourself  in 


CHEMIN  DES  DAMES  65 

between  two  others,  tried  to  pull  your  slicker  over 
your  head,  and  then  spent  the  rest  of  your  waking 
hours  cursing  the  rain  that  persisted  in  dripping  down 
your  neck. 

As  the  train  rumbled  along  through  the  darkness, 
and  the  discouraged  candle-ends  flickered  down  on 
our  prostrate  forms,  we  recalled  and  scoffed  at  the 
tender-foot  fears,  begot  of  ignorance,  which  had  ac- 
companied us  six  weeks  before  under  like  conditions. 
How  different  we  felt  now !  Had  we  not  passed  our 
baptism  of  fire?  Did  we  not  now  know  what  war 
was  ?  Had  we  not  won  through  our  apprenticeship  in 
this  most  exacting  of  trades  ? — No !  a  thousand  times, 
no!  But  we  thought  we  had,  and,  poor  babes  that 
we  were,  we  enjoyed  the  greatest  confidence  and 
peace  that  we  had  known  since  the  United  States  en- 
tered the  war.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  V. 

ONE  "REST  PERIOD" 

T  ATE  in  the  afternoon  of  March  20,  1918,  the  train 
drew  up  outside  the  station  of  Brienne-le-Chat- 
eau.  Favored  with  a  good  ramp,  the  Battery  was 
unloaded,  and  the  horses  harnessed  and  hitched  and 
ready  to  leave  in  what  was  then  our  record  time, 
some  20  minutes. 

It  was  already  dusk  when  the  Battery  pulled  out 
of  the  station  on  its  way  to  billets.  The  column 
passed  through  two  or  three  villages  which  were 
already  occupied  by  units  of  the  division  that  had 
preceded  us  to  the  area.  We  were  kept  busy  an- 
swering and  hurling  in  return  the  questions  always 
on  inquisitive  lips — "What  outfit.  Buddy?"  The  fast 
falling  darkness  closed  from  view  the  country  through 
which  we  passed. 

After  two  hours  riding  we  arrived  at  Radonvil- 
liers,  our  billet.  In  the  darkness,  Radonvilliers  bore 
no  feature  to  distinguish  it  from  any  other  French 
village.  The  cobbled,  narrow  streets  over  which  the 
caisson  wheels  jarred  and  rumbled,  the  widening  of 
the  main  street  into  a  bit  of  square,  the  square  cen- 
tered with  a  noisy  fountain:  of  all  these,  any  other 
village  might  boast  equally  well. 

The  rattle  of  wheels  ceased  when  the  column 
reached  the  dirt  road  on  the  other  side  of  town,  and 
the  Battery  drew  up  in  a  much  too  marshy  field  on  the 
outskirts.     With   picket   line   once   established   be- 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  67 

tween  carriage  wheels  and  the  horses  fed,  we  fell 
in  to  be  assigned  our  first  billets.  Supperless  and 
heavily  laden  with  equipment  we  marched  into  the 
dark  town,  and  the  barn  each  section  was  to  occupy 
was  designated  by  our  billeting  N.  C  O. 

Each  and  every  man  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  when 
he  had  thrown  his  blankets  on  that  part  of  the  straw 
which  he  had  chosen  as  his  bed,  for  he  was  tired,  and 
"home"  was  once  more  established.  More  than  once 
the  feeling  of  destitution  possessed  us  when  we  were 
on  the  road,  just  because  there  was  no  place  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic  that  we  could  put  our  blankets 
and  call  home.  Recently  we  had  learned  to  appre- 
ciate and  to  count  on  finding  safety  in  holes  scarcely 
large  enough  for  our  bodies ;  here  the  contrast  was  so 
g^eat  that  merely  because  we  could  open  out  our 
blankets  and  arrange  in  little  convenient  ways  our 
bits  of  equipment,  we  gained  a  real  suggestion  of 
home! 

With  a  spot  once  chosen  to  lay  our  heads  and  a 
snatch  of  food  for  a  late  supper,  no  one  doubted  that 
sleep  was  the  only  logfical  step. 

Reveille  the  next  morning  found  us  in  formation 
on  the  road  beside  the  picket  line,  and  after  the  horses 
were  fed,  a  hungry  battery  made  its  way  back  to  the 
nearby  square.  The  rolling  kitchen,  located  in  a 
barnyard  off  the  square,  was  the  attraction.  This 
worthy  implement  of  war  as  well  as  peace  had  al- 
ready for  a  couple  of  hours  been  belching  forth  vol- 
umes of  smoke,  and  the  cooks  were  busy  urging  the 
fire  along  with  bacon  grease,  making  coffee,  and  heat- 
ing our  none  too  delicate  traveling  rations. 


68  BATTERY  A 

Radonvilliers,  on  which  worthy  town  the  sun  had 
not  risen  for  twenty-four  hours,  was  pallid  enough. 
The  early  gray  of  dawn  was  above,  the  gray  cobble 
stones  beneath,  before  us  a  granite  fountain-water- 
ing-trough and  the  continuous  once-white  walls  of 
the  buildings  rising  up  sheerly  on  either  side  of  the 
street.  Yet  the  lay-out  of  Radonvilliers  seemed  much 
less  intricate  this  morning  than  the  darkness  of  the 
night  before  had  deluded  us  into  believing.  It  was 
hardly  more  than  a  cluster  of  houses  along  a  main 
street,  and  one  or  two  dirt  roads  that  led  off  at  right 
angles  from  it  to  lose  themselves  in  the  open  country. 

One  of  these  roads  led  some  two  minutes  walk 
from  the  square,  and  after  passing  through  the  stage 
of  a  grass-grown  wagon  track,  dwindled  to  nothing 
in  the  middle  of  a  pasture.  In  this  pasture,  as  the 
light  of  day  revealed,  our  picket  line  had  been  placed. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  village,  B  and  C  Batteries 
were  located  somewhat  similarly  and  billeted  in  other 
quarters  of  the  town. 

Good  care  had  to  be  taken  of  the  horses  for  we 
expected  a  long  hike,  so  that  the  next  two  days  were 
consumed  in  grooming  and  exercising  them  and 
cleaning  harness,  together  with  the  overhead  duties 
of  watering  and  feeding. 

But  the  spare  moments  at  noon  and  after  recall 
in  the  afternoon  sufficed  for  everyone  to  become  as 
familiar  with  all  the  important  features  of  Radon- 
villiers as  if  they  had  been  there  all  their  lives.  No 
cafe  was  left  unvisited.  The  epiceries,  whose  win- 
dows were  adorned  with  shoestrings  and  post  cards 
galore,  found  their  meagre  stock  of  jam  and  cheese 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  69 

and  butter  soon  depleted  and  dwindled  to  nothingness. 
There  was  a  considerable  potter's  shop  on  the  road 
from  the  main  street  to  our  horse  lines  which,  too, 
underwent  much  interested  inspection.  Some  took 
pleasure  in  airing  their  meagre  French  in  carrying  on 
a  sparse  conversation  with  a  French  veteran  of  a  pre- 
vious war,  or  a  refugee  from  the  devastated  areas  of 
France,  as  well  as  with  the  merchants  of  the  town. 

It  was  a  sunny,  and  in  spite  of  the  horses,  a  pleas- 
ant and  relaxing  time  that  was  spent  there  in  that 
little  farming  village,  well  appreciated  after  a  lengthy 
turn  on  the  front  and  a  long,  hard  ride  on  the  train. 
The  second  night,  a  bright  moon  shining  down  on  the 
square  and  the  fountain,  saw  us  quite  at  home  in 
Radonvilliers,  our  home  since  two  nights  before. 

The  morrow  brought  us  splendid  news:  we  were 
to  make  ready  for  our  hike.  We  knew  it  to  be  a  long, 
wearisome,  hard  march  of  several  days  duration  and 
anticipated  no  especial  joy  from  the  journey  itself. 
It  was  our  goal  and  what  that  meant  that  we  looked 
forward  to  so  eagerly,  for  we  were  bound  for  some 
as  yet  unknown  town,  there  to  enjoy  a  couple  of 
weeks  rest.  We  were  all  expectation  and  eagerness 
to  reach  our  first  rest  area. 

The  sunny  morning  of  March  25  found  the  blanket 
rolls  rolled  and  packs  packed.  About  10  o'clock  the 
picket  ropes  were  taken  down,  horses  harnessed  and 
hitched,  the  "lines"  policed.  Before  noon  the  Battery 
had  bade  good-bye  to  Radonvilliers  and  was  stretched 
out  along  the  road,  joining  B  and  C  Batteries  in  bat- 
talion column.  We  stopped  for  dinner  on  the  road, 
and  then  took  up  the  hike  again.    A  good  many  of  us 


70  BATTERY  A 

were  mounted.  The  cannoneers  could  not  ride  the 
carriages  but  were  obliged  to  walk,  for  we  had  a 
long  hike  ahead  in  the  next  week  and  must  save  the 
horses.  Dismounted  men  trudged  along,  the  old  hav- 
ersacks we  came  across  with  slung  over  their  should- 
ers; but  none  were  weary  or  complaining.  Nothing 
but  the  most  cheerful  spirit  existed. 

It  was  beautiful  country  through  which  we  passed 
that  cheery  spring  afternoon.  Broad,  rolling,  green 
fields  stretched  away  on  either  side.  Here  and  there 
in  little  hollows,  cosy,  white  villages  snuggled  tightly 
among  clusters  of  trees,  each  group  of  red  tiled  roofs 
towered  over  by  a  single  church  spire  looking  as  pic- 
turesque as  it  was  beautiful.  Tall  poplar  trees  lined 
the  roads  over  which  the  long  warlike  column,  with 
its  khaki  uniforms,  camouflaged  wagons,  and  brown 
horses,  passed — a  strange  contrast,  indeed,  to  the 
peaceful  and  homelike  scenes  around  it. 

Bunches  of  mistletoe  hung  from  the  limbs  of  the 
apple  trees  in  the  orchards;  there  were  not  woods 
like  our  own  but  with  each  tree  seemingly  planted 
individually,  the  whole  forming  long  rows.  Every- 
thing was  obviously  a  part  of  an  old  country  where 
civilization  had  ruled  for  centuries. 

Still  early  in  the  afternoon  we  turned  off  the 
Grand  Chemin  to  the  right  and  shortly  struck  a  group 
of  a  dozen  or  so  buildings,  stone  buildings  of  course, 
for  there  are  none  but  stone  buildings  in  France. 
These  houses  formed  the  town  of  La  Chaise. 

A  turn  to  the  left  at  the  corners  around  which  the 
town  was  built  brought  us  to  a  field,  just  beyond 
the   last   house   of  the  village.     The   horses   were 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  71 

watered  in  a  brook  that  led  into  a  pond  below  the  vil- 
lage, and  as  the  water  had  to  be  bailed  out  in  buckets, 
and  the  horses  watered  from  these,  the  process  was 
quite  an  extended  one. 

This  business  over,  our  billets  were  assigned:  al- 
most all  the  Battery  being  quartered  in  one  barn. 
The  gate  opened  from  the  cross-roads  in  the  center 
of  town  into  a  court  surrounded  on  all  four  sides  by  a 
continuous  brick  building.  One  side  of  the  building 
the  people  used  as  a  house  and  the  other  three  sides 
were  barn.  A  loft  under  the  eaves  was  approached 
by  an  iron  ladder  from  the  courtyard.  Our  home  was 
in  the  loft.  That  night  after  supper  our  regimental 
band  entertained  us  with  a  concert.  We  danced 
in  the  square  with  our  heavy  hobnailed  shoes,  so  ir- 
repressible was  our  happiness.  Some  of  the  inter- 
ested inhabitants  joined  in  and  danced  with  us. 
The  concert  lasted  until  it  was  no  longer  possible  to 
see,  and  then  as  the  moon  came  up,  we  stood  around 
talking  until  "taps"  called  us  to  our  lofts. 

Sunday  morning.  Palm  Sunday,  dawned  as  beau- 
tiful as  the  day  before,  and  the  spring  sun  rose  higher 
and  higher  on  an  exquisite  scene.  The  fat  cattle  graz- 
ing in  the  green  meadows;  the  pond,  guarded  by  its 
regiments  of  tall  rushes,  reflecting  a  sky  of  the  purest 
blue;  the  distant  hill  climbing  towards  heaven  in  a 
purple  mist:  everything  in  nature  most  befitting  a 
Palm  Sunday.  That  afternoon  on  the  shady  lawn  of 
the  chateau  the  Chaplain  gave  an  Easter  sermon.  It 
proved  the  last  service  we  were  to  have  in  many  a  day. 

Next  day  we  were  up  long  before  the  sun  and 
ready  to  take  up  the  march.  It  was  a  still  chilly  morn- 


72  BATTERY  A 

ing  when  we  struck  the  high  road,  but  before  long 
the  sun's  strengthening  rays  were  beating  down  on 
horses  and  men,  and  the  same  kind  of  beautiful  coun- 
try was  unfolding  itself  in  ever  new  variations  and 
gentle  impressiveness.  There  were  no  rugged  moun- 
tains and  sturdy  forests,  but  all  was  soft  fields  and 
distant  villages  such  as  would  delight  a  painter's 
heart. 

This  was  the  town  where  we  were  to  pass  the  next 
night,  and  shortly  after  noon  we  had  already  drawn 
up  our  carriages  on  a  camp-like  bit  of  ground  beside 
the  road  just  outside  town.  A  willow-lined  brook 
close  by  was  our  watering  trough  and  washing  place. 
In  a  large  barnyard  our  worthy  "soup  gun"  was  dili- 
gently acquitting  itself  of  its  duties,  and  the  cooks 
were  doling  out  its  charge  of  army  beans.  We 
sat  around  on  wheelbarrows  and  a  pile  of  lumber,  eat- 
ing a  dinner  made  infinitely  more  edible  by  the  tidbits 
of  dairy  product  bought  from  the  farmers. 

And  then,  American  fashion,  the  town  had  to  be 
explored  and  all  its  distinctive  features  investigated. 
The  church,  centuries  old,  was  of  unusual  impressive- 
ness. At  the  school  house  some  discussed  with  the 
Professor-of-things-in-general,  for  the  moment  the 
professor  of  ballistics,  the  probability  and  possibility 
of  the  new  Hun  long-range  gun  whose  existence  was 
later  made  known  in  the  newspapers. 

To  bed  we  went  with  the  moon  and  up  we  rose 
with  the  sun.  After  the  Battery,  harnessed  and 
hitched,  had  nosed  its  way  inch  by  inch  through  the 
streets,  crowded  with  engineers  and  other  troops,  we 
struck  out  on  the  main  road     The  packs  that  had 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  73 

been  carried  for  several  days  now  began  to  get  heavy 
and  the  straps  to  cut.  The  fluctuating  speed  of  the 
column  made  it  necessary  to  change  pace  continually, 
and  feet  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  fast  and  continued 
marching. 

A  sharp  climb  with  double  time  through  a  sandy 
stretch  at  the  top  accounted  for  the  death  of  two 
horses.  But  directly  we  stopped  to  pay  our  compli- 
ments to  the  rolling  kitchen  and  revive  our  spirits  by 
bathing  them  in  the  soothing  thought  that  our  hike 
would  soon  be  over  and  our  rest  period  would  be 
upon  us. 

In  a  shower  of  hail,  we  trudged  down  from  the 
heights  into  a  valley  over  a  tortuous,  writhing  road. 
Brachay  was  built  around  its  church  in  the  valley,  all 
on  the  left  of  the  road.  Down  in  a  meadow  on  the 
other  side  between  the  road  and  the  brook,  the  Bat- 
talion proceeded  to  establish  itself.  Numerous  vacant 
houses  in  town  served  us  as  billets. 

The  next  day  was  to  bring  our  hike  to  a  happy 
close ;  and  so  we  started  off,  gay  and  light-hearted  in 
spite  of  tired  feet  and  hungry  horses.  The  morning 
had  dragged  its  slow  length  through  and  it  was  early 
afternoon  when  the  town  of  Roche  hove  into  view. 
It  seemed  that  there  were  Adrian  barracks  in  every 
vacant  lot,  filled  with  troops  and  smoking  kitchens, 
and  American  signs  adorned  every  house.  Here  we 
were  met  by  Corp.  Allen  who  had  preceded  us  in  order 
to  arrange  for  our  coming.  We  were  conducted  by 
him  to  the  hillside  town  of  Sigtieville,  our  rest  billet. 
It  was  a  meagre  town,  but  how  good  it  looked  to 
tired  men !    Each  section  had  its  vacant  house  with  a 


74  BATTERY  A 

big  open  fireplace.  Everyone  began  to  buy  straw  for 
beds  and  proceeded  to  make  himself  comfortable  and 
at  home  for  a  couple  of  weeks  at  least. 

Soon  each  section  had  its  secret  farmhouse  where 
eggs  might  be  bought.  News  of  the  two  canteens  in 
the  village  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  quickly  spread.  Mail 
was  to  be  expected  at  any  time!  We  had  had  no 
mail  on  the  road,  it  all  having  been  sent  ahead  to 
await  us  here.  How  anxious  we  were  to  get  it !  Our 
barrack  bags,  with  all  the  little  conveniences  which 
we  had  not  seen  since  Coetquidan,  were  to  come  on 
the  morrow.  As  we  sat  around  the  fire  place  that 
night  and  talked  of  all  these  things,  and  contemplated 
the  nights  of  unbroken  sleep  with  no  rolling  of  rolls 
and  hikes  in  the  morning,  we  were  contented  at  last ! 

In  the  morning  after  a  good  night's  refreshing 
sleep,  plans  to  consolidate  our  billet  and  horse  lines 
and  make  them  more  convenient  were  put  into  opera- 
tion. At  the  picket  line,  which  was  in  the  shade  of  a 
group  of  evenly  spaced  birch  trees,  a  corral  was  made 
for  the  tired,  underfed  horses  to  graze,  and  have  a 
bit  of  liberty.  After  dinner,  our  barrack  bags  ar- 
rived but  not  so  much  happiness  was  derived  from 
having  them  as  had  been  expected  because  it  was 
rumored  that  we  would  be  allowed  to  go  through 
them  only  and  then  they  must  again  be  turned  in. 
Someone  suggested  the  thoughts  of  all.  "Ah-h-h.  If 
we  were  staying  in  this  burg,  they'd  let  us  keep 
them!" 

A  cloud,  a  black  illboding  cloud  was  gathering 
about  us,  surging  on  in  a  manner  quite  beyond  the 
power  of  us  to  halt.    The  papers  consistently  brought 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  75 

us  news  of  the  Hun  tidal  wave  that  was  to  all  ap- 
pearances crumbling  the  British  on  the  very  front  we 
had  left.  Troops  were  being  rushed  here  and  there 
at  an  instants  notice  to  stem  the  angry  tide.  We 
wondered  about  ourselves  and  our  rest  period. 

The  weather  began  to  reflect  our  feeling  of  un- 
rest, and  the  morning  found  the  cold  rain  beating 
down  and  casting  gloom  about  with  a  merciless  im- 
partiality. The  weary  horses  that  had  been  standing 
that  night  in  the  arctic  downpour  of  rain  were  so 
drowned  and  shivering  that  it  seemed  they  would 
shake  themselves  out  of  their  halters.  Dejected 
enough  ourselves,  before  breakfast  we  led  the  poor 
beasts  out  along  a  winding,  sodden  road  to  bring  a 
bit  of  warmth  into  their  benumbed  legs.  As  we 
splashed  along  the  miry  path  and  brushed  by  drip- 
ping bushes,  Dame  Rumor  had  full  sway.  The  threat- 
ening cloud  deepened  and  hung  low.  Our  "rest"  was 
to  terminate  before  it  had  begun.  The  morning  of 
the  following  day  would  find  us  on  the  road  bound 
for  the  front! 

Bound  for  the  front,  in  such  weather,  with  such 
horses,  with  no  chance  to  recover  from  the  hike  even 
now  completed,  with  such  an  ominous  front  before 
us  as  the  conditions  of  the  victorious  Boche  drive 
would  warrant,  without  our  mail:  an  inspiring  out- 
look! Indeed  fate  seemed  pitted  against  us.  With 
physical  torments  heaped  plentifully  upon  us,  every- 
thing that  happened  seemed  only  to  add  one  more 
drop  to  our  already  overflowing  cup  of  discomfort. 
Under   such  conditions,   the   only   saving  influence 


Id  BATTERY  A 

comes  from  riveting  one's  gaze  steadfastly  on  ideals 
and  not  permitting  it  to  wander  to  the  muddy  road. 

Our  guns  were  taken  to  the  mobile  machine  shop 
for  repairs,  a  couple  of  "Chinese"  caissons  (as  we 
called  our  cumbersome  American  caissons)  arrived, 
and  with  little  heart,  we  prepared  to  leave.  Our  bat- 
tery commander.  Captain  Huntington,  received  or- 
ders to  report  immediately  in  the  capacity  of  an  in- 
structor to  the  training  camp  at  Coetquidan.  The 
command  then  fell  upon  Lieutenant  Clarke.  Lieu- 
tenant MacNamee,  our  other  first  Lieutenant,  was 
soon  afterwards  taken  away  to  become  acting  Bat- 
talion commander. 

We  were  drenched  before  we  started;  we  were  off 
we  knew  not  whither.  We  splashed  and  worried 
along  the  nasty  road,  the  horses  hardly  able  to  drag 
along  their  own  existence.  Whenever  an  obstacle  in 
the  road  presented  itself — a  hill  to  climb  or  an  ex- 
ceptionally bad  stretch  to  cover — the  horses  tugged 
feebly  at  the  traces  as  if  on  their  last  legs.  Footsore 
men  staggered  under  the  cutting  straps  of  heavy 
packs  and  had  too  little  spirit  to  push  very  enthusias- 
tically on  ditched  carriages.  Mounted  men  fared  no 
better:  frozen  in  their  seats,  saddle  weary,  fearing 
every  minute  lest  the  horse's  back  break  beneath  them 
under  the  combined  weight  of  man  and  heavy  march- 
ing equipment.  Some  poor  unfortunate  in  the  rear 
of  the  column  had  literally  to  drag  along  a  half  dozen 
mangy,  moth-eaten,  drowned  skeletons  of  horses  that 
seemed  to  have  no  strength  except  a  stolid,  uncon- 
scious determination  to  pull  backwards  for  the  most 
part,  but  in  general  in  every  direction  except  the  one 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  77 

you  wanted  them  to  go.  No  one  will  ever  know  how 
unsurpassingly  aggravating  an  army  horse  is  until 
he  has  hauled  along  a  few  mangy  bags  of  bones  all 
day  on  such  a  hike  as  this  one. 

And  so  we  struggled  on  by  little  cities  of  Adrian 
barracks,  hoping  each  place  was  the  one  where  we 
were  to  stop  for  the  night,  coming  to  the  road  that 
led  to  each,  eagerly  waiting  to  see  the  head  of  the 
column  turn  in,  passing  by,  lapsing  back  with  addi- 
tional disappointment.  An  endless  afternoon  slowly 
wore  away,  the  indefatigable  rain  always  upon  us, 
when,  just  before  dark,  we  found  ourselves  drawn  up 
in  a  quagmire  at  Neufchateau.  We  dreaded  to  move. 
We  dreaded  the  order  to  dismount  even  though  we 
knew  the  sooner  our  work  was  over  the  quicker  we 
could  get  under  cover.    We  had  spirit  for  nothing. 

In  that  mire,  in  that  rain,  in  that  cold,  we  left  the 
weary  horses  tied  to  picket  lines,  shouldered  all  our 
reeking  equipment,  and  straggled  countless  kilo- 
meters, it  seemed,  to  the  camp  in  the  town.  We  were 
led  into  a  great  building  once  used  as  a  horse  ring  and 
now  filled  with  bales  upon  bales  of  hay.  Ages  we 
waited  for  supper  and  then  there  was  enough  for 
only  about  half  the  men;  the  other  half  went  supper- 
less.  Some  sneaked  out  by  the  guard  and  sought 
supper  in  the  town ;  perched  high  on  the  bales  of  hay, 
the  others  sought  refuge  and  consolation  between  a 
couple  of  blankets  in  which  the  water  oozed. 

We  must  have  been  in  bed  at  least  two  minutes 
when,  Morse  Code  "dot  dash"  shrieked  out  of  the  top 
sergeant's  whistle,  and  we  were  routed  out  with  a 
heartless  flashlight.    Someone  had  been  blessed  with 


78  BATTERY  A 

a  bright  idea !  We  were  to  go  back  to  the  picket  lines, 
get  the  horses,  and  put  them  into  barns.  We  were  in 
no  frame  of  mind  that  night  to  want  to  do  it  for  the 
horses'  sake;  but  done  it  must  be,  so  done  it  was. 

Alas !  Easter  morning  gushed  forth  with  no  more 
pity  than  the  preceding  day.  Wet  straps  were  buckled 
and  deeply  sunken  park-wagons  urged  by  main 
strength  on  to  the  road  again.  We  did  get  a  sidelong 
glimpse  at  the  sun  during  the  morning  and  in  the 
early  afternoon  after  passing  through  Colombe  we 
parked  the  carriages  outside  Allain,  favored  by  a 
straggling,  belated  sunbeam.  That  night  we  were 
decently  billeted  in  comfortable  hay  lofts.  A  refresh- 
ing and  much  needed  sleep,  coupled  with  a  moderately 
respectable  show  of  sunlight  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, made  it  possible  to  pursue  our  duties  in  a  much 
more  cheerful  frame  of  mind.  The  exhausted  horses 
were  cared  for  and  given  their  ration  of  grain  to- 
gether with  a  few  mouthfuls  of  forage.  We  waited 
in  anxious  suspense  the  whole  morning  through  for 
orders  to  move,  each  man  (and  I  dare  say  each  horse) 
praying  madly  for  another  night's  rest. 

The  army  doesn't  work  that  way.  At  noon  it  ap- 
peared that  our  orders  to  move  had  simply  been  de- 
layed, and  so  instead  of  traveling  the  morning  and 
afternoon  and  getting  to  our  destination  in  the  late 
afternoon,  we  would  travel  afternoon  and  night  and 
arrive  in  the  gray  of  dawn.  This  cheerful  thought 
was  applauded  by  Father  Neptune  with  his  usual 
mode  of  expression,  a  deluge.  He  seems  to  find  some 
unholy  gratification  in  manifesting  his  powers  to  un 
happy  spirits  in  France. 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  79 

Allain  was  soon  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  at  an  all 
too  early  hour  darkness  closed  in  around  us.  Mud 
splashed  on  the  bottoms  of  the  dismounted  men's 
slickers  and  from  these  plastered  itself  in  a  hard 
clammy  cake  all  over  their  spirals  from  shoe  to  knee. 
Feet  stuck  in  the  mud  and  the  clinging  clay  made 
them  well  nigh  unliftable. 

Army  slickers  are  unhappily  never  known  as  rain- 
coats. They  have  in  fact  the  opposite  effect  from  any 
self-respecting  raincoat.  They  act  as  one-way  valves 
permitting  all  the  water  to  enter  at  an  alarmingly 
efficient  manner  and  allowing  never  a  drop  to  escape. 
The  cold  rain  mockingly  defied  all  known  laws  of 
gravitation,  running  up  the  sleeves  as  well  as  down 
the  neck  and  into  the  ears. 

No  supper  beautified  our  mess-kits  that  night,  and 
the  poor  beasts  plodded  along  equally  supperless. 

Eight  hours  we  had  dragged  our  weary,  drenched 
selves  and  equipment  along  that  mud  path  when  we 
began  to  think,  "Well,  the  next  town  simply  must  be 
it!"  But  the  next  town  appeared,  resounded  to  the 
noise  of  moving  horses  and  carriages  on  its  pave- 
ments, and  disappeared  again  into  the  night  in  which 
no  trace  of  light  could  be  found. 

The  loitering  hands  of  watches  refused  to  move. 
On  and  on  we  straggled  with  equipment  bearing  heav- 
ily down.  No  cigarette  was  allowed  to  bring  a  bit 
of  comfort.  Heavens  no!  the  Hun  would  see  us  if 
we  smoked.    Blank  the  Hun,  anyway ! 

Up  hill  and  down  dale  we  traveled  on.  Eight, 
nine,  ten,  eleven,  twelve,  and  one  o'clock  staggered 
unsteadily  by.    A  rapid,  uneven,  and  most  aggravat- 


80  BATTERY  A 

ing  pace  was  set.  Many  carriages  whose  exhausted 
horses  could  not  stand  the  strain  fell  far  in  the  rear. 
The  batteries  were  mixed  up  in  a  hopeless  scramble. 
That  was  a  small  matter.  No  one  cared  to  be  both- 
ered with  such  trifles.  Carriages  unable  to  make  a 
grade  were  sometimes  helped  but  more  often  left  to 
their  own  wild  devices.  The  mangy  horses  unable 
longer  to  lift  their  feet,  stumbled  and  fell  and  on 
finding  themselves  unable  to  get  up  again,  were  shot 
and  rolled  into  the  ditch. 

Untold  ages  wore  away  and,  finally,  at  two  o'clock 
the  head  of  the  column  halted.  The  blackness  of  the 
drizzling  night  made  it  impossible  to  see  any  help  in 
the  surrounding  country,  but  the  order  came  to  un- 
harness and  unhitch.  Carriages  were  left  in  the  road 
where  they  found  themselves  and  harness  was  thrown 
desperately  into  the  mud  or  into  the  ditch  by  the  side 
of  the  road  which  had  assumed  long  ago  the  pro- 
portions of  a  river. 

Neither  officers  nor  men  knew  where  they  were. 
Men,  made  stolid  by  irritation,  led  horses  around 
among  barracks  that  loomed  up  in  the  darkness, 
shouting  to  know  where  the  watering  trough  was  and 
where  our  respective  stables  were.  Vicious,  hungry, 
drowned  horses  fell  with  their  leaders  into  ditches 
and  bumped  into  fences  until  at  last  they  were  packed 
into  stables  and  fed.  Ourselves  we  fed  on  a  slice  of 
cold  bacon  and  a  quarter  of  a  cup  of  cold,  black  cof- 
fee after  waiting  in  line  till  we  could  hardly  stand. 
Then  out  again  into  the  pelting  rain  in  search  of  a 
barrack  for  sleep.    Oh!  unfortunate  man  that  was 


J^"  '■^W'W^i^*^*^^ 


^// 


r^ 


.^- 


S3 


R,s.-.tiot,'i<.S\  ^^ 


te:^ 


C-^^'t 


.-^  ^>^^'' 


';;ih^"^~x^ 


ONE  "REST  PERIOD"  81 

chosen  for  guard  that  night  at  Camp  L'Eveque !    Be- 
lated horses  and  men  kept  coming  in  all  night. 

Without  a  dry  stitch  to  our  names,  we  threw  our- 
selves upon  the  hard  floor  of  a  barrack,  hardly  waiting 
to  take  off  our  equipment,  let  alone  unrolling  it. 
Some  of  us  felt  a  strong  impulse  to  lie  on  our  backs 
and  kick  our  heels  in  the  air  and  scheech,  in  an  ecstasy 
of  irritation,  but  we  were  too  tired  for  even  that 
relief. 

It  was  three  o'clock  before  the  first  of  us  got  to 
bed  that  morning  and  at  four  we  were  all  routed  out 
to  eat  a  scanty  mess  and  harness  and  hitch  again. 
We  stood  around  in  the  murky  dawn  until  eight 
o'clock  and  then  started  back  along  the  road  Ave  had 
traversed  in  the  night,  and  after  some  hours  riding, 
struck  off  on  a  new  road  towards  Toul.  Two  scouts 
had  been  sent  ahead  to  determine  the  road,  and  they 
guided  us  through  the  considerable  town  of  Toul  and 
out  on  to  the  road  to  Bruley.  During  the  morning 
the  weather  cleared  and  our  short  trip  from  Toul  to 
Bruley  was  not  over-oppressive. 

The  main  road  of  Bruley  ran  straight  up  the  side 
of  a  hill,  and  our  billets  were  in  lofts  on  the  main 
street.  The  place  also  quartered  a  large  number  of 
exceptionally  splendid  looking  French  soldiers.  Be- 
fore noon,  the  picket  lines  were  established  in  some 
meadows  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Hay  and  grain  were 
brought  up  by  truck  for  the  horses,  and  were  vora- 
ciously devoured. 

After  reveille  on  the  morning  succeeding  our  ar- 
rival what  a  sight  greeted  our  eyes  at  the  picket  lines ! 
Horses  had  torn  loose  from  the  lines  and  were  graz- 


82  BATTERY  A 

ing  far  and  wide  over  the  landscape.  Others  had 
fallen,  struggling  in  the  trodden  mire  under  foot,  and 
being  cast,  lay  freezing.  With  all  the  horses  coaxed 
back  by  cunning  or  forced  to  their  feet  by  main 
strength,  the  lines  were  moved  to  a  more  promising 
spot  and  a  corral  established  for  the  more  fortunate 
ones. 

Here,  with  our  irrepressible  French  comrades,  we 
were  settled  in  Bruley  for  a  day  or  so  with  a  bit  of 
sun  and  some  rest  to  revive  our  spirits,  awaiting  or- 
ders to  take  up  positions  on  the  near-by  front,  the 
Toul  Sector. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  TOUL  SECTOR 

WJ  HEN  the  great  German  offensive  started  on 
March  21,  the  26th  and  42nd  Divisions  w^ere 
just  arriving  in  their  rest  billets  and  wrere  planning 
to  carry  on  an  extensive  war  game  with  each  other. 
The  events  on  the  British  front,  however,  quickly  can- 
celled all  previous  plans.  The  First  American  Divi- 
sion, which  was  then  holding  the  Toul  Sector,  was 
needed  to  help  stem  the  onslaught  farther  north,  and 
the  26th  was  promptly  called  upon  to  fill  up  the  gap 
they  left. 

The  Toul  Sector  came  under  the  category  of  a 
"rest  sector."  It  was  supposed  to  be  a  quiet,  respect- 
able place  where  each  side  treated  the  other  with  con- 
sideration. Such  a  thing  as  shelling  the  other  fellow's 
towns  was  unheard  of,  and  would  be  sure  to  bring 
back  prompt  retaliation.  Combat  troops  who  were 
tired  out  and  needed  recuperation  would  go  to  a  place 
like  the  Toul  front  to  rest.  They  would  do  only  the 
minimum  amount  of  fighting  necessary  to  maintain 
the  state  of  war,  their  main  idea  being  to  live  as  well 
as  possible  in  deep,  comfortable  dugouts. 

New  troops  going  into  the  lines  for  the  first  time 
were  also  trained  in  these  quiet  sectors.  There  was 
another  very  important  consideration,  however, 
which  helped  keep  the  Toul  Sector  quiet, — at  least 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  Allies, — the  Germans 
held  all  the  high  ground.  The  Heights  of  the  Meuse 


84  BATTERY  A 

and  the  rugged,  wooded  plateau  stretching  from  Hat- 
tonchatel  on  the  north  to  St.  Mihiel  on  the  south  com- 
pletely dominated  the  French  positions  on  the  low, 
swampy,  flat  Woevre  plain. 

The  front  lines  followed  along  parallel  to  the  high 
plateau.  Owing  to  the  swamps  and  lakes  that  were 
everywhere  present,  the  main  scheme  of  defence  had 
to  rely  on  certain  strong  points  rather  than  on  a  con- 
tinuous front  line.  Beginning  on  the  right  of  the  Di- 
visional Sector,  the  allied  line  ran  through  the  towns 
of  Flirey,  Bois  Jure,  Bois  Remiere,  and  the  towns  of 
Marvoisin  and  Xixray;  then  came  a  long  stretch  of 
swampy  morass  until  the  lines  swung  around  near 
the  top  of  the  St.  Mihiel  Salient  and  outside  of  Apre- 
mont,  up  and  over  the  high  plateau.  The  allied  terri- 
tory was  very  flat  and  low.  The  fields  were  broken 
with  stretches  of  woods,  while  many  smashed-to- 
pieces  towns  were  scattered  through  the  area.  Ram- 
bucourt,  Beaumont,  Seicheprey,  Boucq,  Ansauville, 
St.  Julien,  Royaumeix,  Mandres,  Bouconville,  Berne- 
court,  Menil-le-Tour,  Andilly  and  Boncourt  later  be- 
came well  known  to  members  of  the  26th  Division. 

From  their  observatories  on  the  impregnable  fort- 
ress of  Mont  Sec,  the  Germans  could  watch  every 
move  of  their  opponents  for  miles  back  of  the  lines. 
Allied  soldiers  could  not  raise  their  heads  anywhere 
without  seeing  hated  old  Mont  Sec  staring  them  in 
the  face.  They  lived  in  a  great  swamp.  Their  dug- 
outs were  under  water.  Their  trenches  were  all 
flooded,  while  across  the  line  the  Hun  was  biding  his 
time  on  his  high  and  dry  ground  in  comparative 
luxury. 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  85 

Such  was  the  condition  of  affairs  when  the  26th 
Division  reHeved  the  First  Division  early  in  April. 
The  latter,  however,  had  stirred  things  up  greatly  in 
their  two  months'  stay.  The  Americans  had  not 
fought  through  four  long,  weary  years  of  war  the 
way  the  French  had.  They  did  not  want  a  rest.  They 
wanted  action.  They  gave  the  Boche  the  surprise  of 
his  life.  The  latter,  according  to  his  regular  sched- 
ule, dropped  a  few  shells  near  a  certain  Infantry  Com- 
mand Post.  The  Infantry  Commander  refused  to 
stand  for  it  and  ordered  a  tremendous  concentration 
of  artillery  on  a  Boche  town.  Such  procedure,  re- 
peated a  few  times,  promptly  brought  an  end  to  all 
the  unwritten  laws  of  the  sector.  Everything  livened 
up.  The  Hun  no  longer  shelled  at  will  with  impunity. 
He  always  received  as  much  as  he  sent  over,  and 
more.  Places  like  ''Dead  Man's  Corner"  near  Mandres 
were  no  longer  safe  places  to  linger.  They  became 
favorite  haunts  for  ISO's  and  77's. 

The  first  Battalion  of  the  101st  F.  A.  was  des- 
ignated to  relieve  the  7th  Field  Artillery  near  Ram- 
bucourt,  while  the  Second  Battalion  was  to  relieve  a 
French  Regiment  more  to  the  left.  A  Battery  ar- 
rived at  Rangeval,  the  rear  echelon  of  E  Battery  of 
the  7th,  on  the  afternoon  of  April  3.  That  evening 
the  first  platoon  started  for  the  front,  12  kilometers 
away,  with  the  1st  Division  drivers  and  horses  haul- 
ing the  guns.  The  night  was  very  dark  and  no  one 
had  any  idea  where  he  was  going  or  how  far  away  the 
front  was.  As  the  plain  behind  Rambucourt  was  be- 
ing crossed,  the  first  real  glimpse  of  the  front  stood 
out  vividly.    Star  shells  and  Very  lights  were  going 


86  BATTERY  A 

up  everywhere  in  front  of  us.  On  our  right  "Dead 
Man's  Corner"  was  being  heavily  shelled,  sparks  of 
bursting  ISO's  shining  out  in  the  distance.  No  one 
could  light  a  match  or  smoke,  as  we  were  in  direct 
observation  of  the  Boche.  In  some  way  the  Hun  had 
got  wind  of  the  relief  that  was  taking  place,  and  had 
shelled  all  the  battery  positions  the  night  before  for 
six  hours  with  gas  shells  and  high  explosives.  On  the 
night  of  the  3rd,  however,  not  a  shell  came  over 
towards  the  Battery.  By  3  A.  M.  our  guns  were 
safely  in  position,  and  the  7th's  were  well  on  their 
way  to  their  echelon. 

The  Toul  Sector  was  an  exceedingly  poor  one  for 
artillery  positions.  There  were  practically  no  places 
well  suited  for  emplacements,  and  everything  could 
be  promptly  picked  up  by  the  enemy.  The  St.  Dizier- 
Metz  Road  ran  along  through  the  towns  of  Rambu- 
court  and  Beaumont,  parallel  to  the  front  lines,  about 
200  meters  back  of  them.  Practically  the  only  possi- 
bilities in  the  way  of  battery  positions  lay  just  under 
the  cover  of  these  towns  where  they  would  be  prac- 
tically hidden  from  observation.  Behind  Rambu- 
court  there  was  quite  a  cluster  of  batteries:  two  90 
mm.  and  two  75  mm.  all  within  500  meters  of 
each  other,  A's  position  being  between  the  two  90 
batteries.  This  position  was  a  strong  one :  every  dug- 
out had  a  heavy  protection  of  concrete  slabs,  logs, 
rocks,  I  beams,  tole  iron  and  sand  bags;  two  gas- 
proof doors  were  on  every  entrance  and  even  the  gun 
pits  had  enough  protection  to  resist  a  77.  The  emplace- 
ment, however,  was  three  or  four  years  old  and  nat- 
urally was  well  known  to  the  Boche  who  loved  to 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  87 

throw  over  sudden  bursts  of  77*s  to  catch  us  off  our 
guard.  Their  favorite  method  of  annoyance  was  to 
mix  in  a  lot  of  diphosgene  gas  with  the  H.E.'s.  Every 
night  at  one  or  two  A.  M.  great  concentrations 
of  gas  would  come  over  to  the  accompaniment  of 
alarm  gongs  and  klaxons  along  the  whole  front.  At 
this  stage  of  the  game  the  Division  had  not  become 
sufficiently  well  introduced  to  gas  to  know  that  shell- 
gas,  especially,  was  very  local  in  its  effect,  and  that 
just  because  a  gas  shell  burst  in  one  place,  a  place 
50  yards  away  would  not  necessarily  be  affected  un- 
less the  wind  were  blowing  in  that  direction.  At  first 
a  gas  alarm  would  be  taken  up  and  spread  for  miles 
by  klaxon  horns.  Everybody  would  put  on  his  mask 
and  wait  until  the  word  was  passed  to  take  it  off. 
Later  on,  when  the  men  became  "acclimated"  to  gas, 
no  one  worried  about  distant  alarms. 

In  spite  of  the  continual  Boche  concentrations,  not 
a  man  was  hit  or  gassed.  Many  were  the  hair  breadth 
escapes,  especially  in  going  to  the  kitchen,  but  luck 
was  always  with  us.  We  did  only  a  little  firing,  and 
the  cannoneers  had  a  much  needed  opportunity  to 
clean  up  and  rest.  The  telephone  detail,  however,  had 
to  work  overtime.  They  had  nine  or  ten  lines  to  keep 
in  operation,  most  of  which  were  being  cut  every  day 
or  so  by  the  Boche  shells.  There  was  one  line,  es- 
pecially, running  out  to  the  front  lines  in  Marvoisin 
which  the  Boche  always  cut.  With  about  twenty 
other  Infantry  lines  it  ran  down  through  the  com- 
municating trench.  All  the  Boche  had  to  do,  there- 
fore, was  to  drop  a  shell  in  the  trench  and  all  the 
wires  would  be  "out." 


88  BATTERY  A 

Inasmuch  as  the  Germans  held  the  upper  hand  in 
the  early  part  of  1918,  it  was  thought  probable  that 
they  might  launch  an  attack  along  the  Lorraine 
Front.  On  this  account  it  did  not  seem  wise  to  have 
all  the  batteries  situated  within  the  two  thousand 
meter  limit  behind  the  St.  Dizier-Metz  road  where 
they  would  be  too  fully  exposed  to  complete  neutral- 
ization or  even  capture  in  case  of  an  attack.  Reserve 
positions  were  therefore  picked  out  about  5500  meters 
from  the  line  and  were  occupied  by  two  guns  from 
each  battery.  On  the  nights  of  April  4  and  5  our  sec- 
ond platoon  took  over  the  reserve  position.  Later, 
on  the  12th,  our  first  platoon  moved  back  from  Ram- 
bucourt  and  joined  it.  This  new  position  was  an  en- 
tirely artificial  camouflage  one.  It  was  situated  in 
the  middle  of  a  swampy  field,  in  full  view  of  the  nine 
Boche  balloons  which  were  always  up  on  clear  days. 
A  great  wire  camouflage  net  covered  it  over.  Owing 
to  the  danger  of  observation,  the  kitchen  had  to  be 
placed  in  the  woods  about  two  hundred  meters  to  the 
rear,  and  walking  around  in  the  open  had  to  be  cut 
down  to  a  minimum.  The  question  of  bringing  in 
provisions,  ammunition  and  building  materials  was  a 
serious  one.  There  was  no  road  accessible,  and  the 
only  way  for  a  wagon  to  get  in  was  over  a  soft,  miry 
field.  Luckily  a  Decauville  railroad  ran  by  the  posi- 
tion, and  brought  up  most  of  the  supplies  from  the 
rear. 

The  emplacement  itself  was  far  from  developed. 
Three  gun  pits  had  been  shaped  up  pretty  well,  also 
five  abris,  and  a  main  trench  had  been  dug;  but  only 
two  of  the  abris  had  any  protection  over  them.    The 


THE  BRICK  FACTORY  AT  RANGEVAL.  LONG  SHED  USED  AS  STABLE.  BUILDING 
UNDER  CHIMNEY  USED  AS  QUARTERS  FOR  BATTERY  A.  BUILDINGS  SEEN  OVER 
SHED.  QUARTERS  FOR  BATTERIES  B  AND  C.  THIS  CHIMNEY  IN  PLAIN  VIEW  OF 
ENEMY    AS    EVIDENCED    BY    CAMOUFLAGED    ROAD    BEYOND    BUILDINGS 


MONASTERY  AT  RANGEVAL  USED  AS  ECHELON  BY  UNITS  OF  tOlST  AND  103RD  F.  A. 
HILLS  IN  BACKGROUND  GIVE  EXCELLENT  ILLUSTRATION  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  THE 
GROUND. 


PICKET    LINE    AT    BRACHAY    ON    THE    SEVEN    DAY    HIKE    TOWARD 
THE    REST    BILLETS 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  89 

bane  of  our  existence  was  water.  Everything  was 
flooded.  Four  pumps  had  to  be  kept  going  steadily  all 
day.  At  night  the  water  would  rise  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  bunks.  Rubber  boots  were  of  course  worn 
all  the  time.  It  was  impossible  to  fight  the  water  and 
at  the  same  time  do  construction  work;  consequently 
a  detail  of  twenty  men  came  up  from  the  echelon  to 
help  out. 

In  order  to  escape  observation,  all  the  building 
material  of  I-beams,  tole  iron,  and  logs  were  carried 
under  the  net  each  day  before  sunrise  or  after  sun- 
set. The  path  that  led  to  the  position  was  continued 
on  to  the  woods  beyond,  and  men  approaching  or  leav- 
ing in  the  daytime  had  to  do  so  one  at  a  time.  The 
Battery  was  supposed  to  be  in  reserve.  It  was  only 
to  fire  in  case  the  Boche  attacked,  and  a  barrage  was 
called  for  by  the  infantry. 

It  has  been  said  that  this  was  a  unique  war,  and 
that  everything  in  it  was  unique.  At  any  rate  the 
echelon  at  Rangeval  upholds  that  statement  and  de- 
serves a  passing  word.  The  town  consisted  of  four 
houses,  a  monastery,  and  a  delapidated  brick-factory 
which  was  entirely  surrounded  by  mud.  Adjoining 
the  factory  were  some  small  buildings  which  formed 
a  court-yard.  In  these  buildings  and  on  the  ground 
floor  of  the  factory,  C  Battery  was  quartered,  the  A 
Battery  drivers  having  the  second  floor  and  a  few 
small  sheds  in  the  rear.  One  end  of  this  building  was 
a  long  shed  which  was  used  as  a  stable  by  both 
batteries. 

The  most  imposing  feature  of  our  billet  was  a 
brick  chimney  some  eighty  feet  high  which  stood  out 


90  BATTERY  A 

like  a  beacon  for  miles  around.  The  chimney  had  been 
tilted  by  some  wanton  Boche  shell  so  that  it  shamed 
the  Tower  of  Piza  and  it  was  regarded  by  the  drivers 
who  slept  beneath  as  a  sort  of  Sword  of  Damocles. 
For  the  first  few  days,  its  temperament  was  carefully 
and  prayerfully  studied  when  it  seemed  to  win  from 
the  drivers  a  degree  of  grudgfing  confidence. 

The  Monastery  was  sometimes  called  the  "Port 
of  Missing  Men"  because  it  sheltered  the  only  wine 
shop  in  the  neighborhood. 

Life  at  Rangeval  was  far  from  fast,  as  most  of  the 
ammunition  was  hauled  by  narrow-gauge.  Taking 
care  of  the  horses  was  about  the  sole  resource,  and 
amusement  was  at  a  premium.  On  one  occasion  a 
noise  of  deliberate,  evenly  spaced  pistol  shots  was 
traced  to  the  second  floor  of  the  factory.  It  seemed 
A  Battery  ingenuity  had  solved  the  amusement  prob- 
lem. Corporal  Wheelwright  lay  flat  on  his  bunk, 
dreamily  shooting  the  tiles  from  the  roof  above  his 
head! 

The  drivers  at  Rangeval  were  honored  with  the 
presence  of  Miss  Elsie  Janis  on  May  24. 

On  May  10  orders  suddenly  came  to  the  firing 
Battery  to  get  ready  to  move  immediately.  The 
104th  Infantry  was  being  attacked  very  heavily 
about  fifteen  kilometers  to  the  west  in  the  Bois  Brule, 
near  Apremont,  and  we  were  to  help  our  Second 
Battalion  support  them.  Luckily  for  us  the  sun  had 
shone  brightly  for  a  couple  of  days  and  had  dried  the 
ground  to  such  an  extent  that  the  guns  were  "snaked 
out"  fairly  easily.  The  drivers  had  a  few  excit- 
ing moments  coming  in  to  the  position  when  a  cluster 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  91 

of  ISO's  burst  near  them,  while  several  carriages  got 
lost  for  a  short  time  in  the  darkness  and  became  tan- 
gled up  in  some  barbed  wire.  By  midnight,  however, 
the  whole  First  Battalion  was  well  on  its  way.  A 
long,  tedious  road-march  followed.  The  echelon  at 
Rangeval  was  passed,  then  the  towns  of  Cornieville, 
Jouy,  Gironville,  and  Vignot.  Finally,  at  7  A.  M.,  we 
reached  our  new  echelon  at  Boncourt  near  the  banks 
of  the  Meuse.  We  stayed  here  until  the  afternoon 
when  we  were  ordered  to  take  up  our  position.  The 
latter  was  situated  just  back  of  Fort  Liouville,  one 
of  the  forts  defending  Toul.  To  get  to  it  the  road 
led  over  a  hill  in  clear  view  of  the  enemy,  then  down 
into  a  gully  and  up  a  very  steep  hill  to  the  position, 
the  latter  part  including  a  much  shelled  hair-pin  curve 
easily  enfiladed  by  Boche  gtms.  The  carriages  were 
started  off  one  at  a  time,  at  ten  minute  intervals,  un- 
der cover  of  a  thick  mist.  The  hair-pin  curve  of  the 
Fort  Liouville  Hill  almost  proved  our  Waterloo.  Car- 
riage after  carriage  got  stuck  there.  At  one  time 
as  many  as  eight  carriages  were  stalled.  But  our  luck 
was  with  us.  For  some  unaccountable  reason  the 
Boche  did  not  shell  the  road  all  that  afternoon,  a 
thing  which  he  had  done  every  day  during  the  pre- 
ceding week,  and  which  he  did  with  a  particular  vi- 
ciousness  every  day  of  the  week  following.  By  dusk 
our  guns  were  all  "laid  in,"  and  the  horses  and  lim- 
bers were  safely  away. 

The  position  was  well  defiladed  just  under  the 
crest  of  the  hill.  Its  dugouts  were  very  strong  with 
their  protection  of  crushed  rock,  and  their  strength 
was  amply  proved  by  six  direct  hits  which  failed  to 


92  BATTERY  A 

injure  them  in  the  least.  The  kitchen  was  about  five 
hundred  yards  in  the  rear,  close  to  a  French  95  milli- 
meter battery.  As  in  the  position  at  Rambucourt, 
the  Boche  soon  proved  to  us  that  they  knew  our  loca- 
tion exactly.  At  any  time  of  day  they  were  likely  to 
swamp  the  crest  with  a  deluge  of  77's;  at  meal  time 
especially  they  pounded  away.  It  didn't  pay  to  stray 
far  from  the  emplacement  unless  one's  ears  were 
strained  for  the  approaching  whine  and  a  convenient 
shell  hole  was  close  by.  The  route  to  the  kitchen  was 
always  precarious  and  it  was  not  infrequent  for  mess 
to  be  suddenly  terminated  by  a  wild  scramble  for  the 
nearest  dugout,  while  mess  kits  and  food  went  clat- 
tering to  the  ground.  However,  our  luck  stayed  with 
us.  With  the  exception  of  Joe  Zwinge,  not  a  man 
was  touched.  He  had  the  misfortune  to  be  caught  in 
a  savage  concentration  of  ISO's  while  bringing  a  horse 
up  to  Battalion  headquarters,  and  was  fatally  wound- 
ed by  a  shell  splinter  which  struck  him  above  the  eye. 
He  died  on  April  16,  the  Battery's  first  fatal  casualty. 
Time  and  again  our  caissons  with  ammunition,  or  our 
limbers,  would  come  up  to  the  position,  but  not  once 
did  a  shell  come  over.  Just  before  or  just  afterwards 
H.  E.'s  would  be  bursting  everywhere,  but  they  al- 
ways missed  the  right  time. 

The  Battery  fired  604  rounds  from  this  position. 
The  targets  included  the  railroad  station  at  Apremont 
(the  Registration  point  and  Basic  Deflection),  sev- 
eral cross  roads  back  of  the  German  lines,  and  several 
German  batteries.  It  gave  everyone  special  delight 
to  harrass  the  enemy  batteries  after  the  way  they  had 
pounded  us.  Our  observation  post,  "O.  T.  28,"  as  it  was 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  93 

called,  was  nestled  in  a  nook  in  the  communicating 
trench  on  the  forward  side  of  the  Fort  Liouville  Hill. 
A  good  view  could  be  obtained  from  it  of  the  enemy 
lines  around  Apremont,  and  much  time  was  spent  in 
registering  the  various  shell  lots  and  calibrating  the 
guns  on  the  Station  at  Apremont.  The  Boche  must 
have  had  a  P.  C.  (Post  of  Command)  or  something 
equally  important  in  this  Station,  because  every  time 
we  fired,  he  responded  by  "coming  back"  most  sav- 
agely on  our  front  lines  with  his  77's  and  minen- 
werfers. 

The  Divisional  Sector  was  so  extended,  and  our 
forces  were  so  scattered,  that  a  "Flying  Battalion"  of 
75's  was  organized  under  Major  Richardson,  which 
was  to  be  prepared  to  move  at  a  moment's  notice  to 
support  any  part  of  the  line  which  the  Boche  might 
attack.  When,  on  April  20,  the  Hun  "Flying  Circus" 
launched  its  vicious  assault  against  Seicheprey,  our 
"Flying  Battalion"  composed  of  B.  E.  and  F.  batteries 
was  rushed  away  to  help  the  102nd  F.  A.  in  its  de- 
fence. In  order  to  deceive  the  enemy  and  make  it 
appear  that  no  batteries  had  really  left.  Colonel  Sher- 
burne ordered  A  Battery  to  move  back  and  place  two 
guns  in  E*s  position  and  two  in  F's.  These  two  em- 
placements were  organized  on  the  hill  back  of  Fort 
Liouville.  They  were  about  two  hundred  yards  apart 
and  were  on  the  edge  of  the  crest,  the  hill  dropping 
off  steeply  behind  them.  They  therefore  made  a  very 
difficult  target,  as  any  "over"  would  shoot  down  into 
the  valley  beyond,  while  the  slight  crest  in  front  gave 
a  great  deal  of  protection  against  "shorts."  A  gas 
shell  would  have  no  effect  whatever.     Neither  posi- 


94  BATTERY  A 

tion  was  greatly  developed.  The  work  on  the  gun- 
pits,  dugouts,  and  trenches  had  hardly  more  than 
started.  The  First  Platoon,  which  had  been  estab- 
lished in  E's  emplacement,  only  stayed  there  two 
days,  inasmuch  as  E  Battery  itself  came  back  again. 
Yet  on  the  very  first  day  the  Boche  was  lucky  enough 
to  score  a  direct  hit  on  the  first  section  gun  pit  at  the 
very  moment  when  the  gun  was  firing.  Davis  Law- 
rence, who  was  acting  gunner,  was  instantly  killed, 
as  was  Clififord  Sawyer.  Norbert  Rigby  was  fatally 
wounded  and  later  died  at  the  hospital.  Sergeant  Ben 
James  was  seriously  wounded,  while  Martin  and 
Fisher  were  both  badly  shaken  up  and  were  wounded 
slightly.  Both  Rigby  and  James  were  wonderfully 
brave  and  cheerful.  Their  courage  was  an  inspiration 
to  everyone  in  the  Battery. 

While  at  this  so-called  "St.  Julien  Position," 
named  after  the  little  village  in  the  valley  in  front  of 
us,  Lt.  MacNamee  assumed  command  of  the  Battery. 
Lts.  Shaw,  Daizy,  and  Hommel  joined  us  here.  Major 
Perkins  was  our  Battalion  Commander,  the  Battalion 
consisting  of  A,  C,  and  D  Batteries. 

After  the  first  section  was  completely  disorganized 
on  April  21  and  their  gun  destroyed,  a  composite  gun 
crew  was  organized  under  Chandler  as  Chief  of  Sec- 
tion. They  received  a  new  piece  to  work  with,  which 
they  named  "Lil," — soon  to  become  famous.  This 
piece  was  later  put  out  of  action  in  Belleau  Woods. 

Our  stay  here  between  April  20  and  May  10  proved 
to  be  most  comfortable  and  enjoyable.  The  weather 
was  fine  and  warm.  Our  location  was  beautifully  sit- 
uated, overlooking  the  Woevre  valley  and  plains  be- 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  95 

yond  with  their  apple  trees  in  bloom  in  every  direc- 
tion. During  the  last  two  weeks,  enemy  shelling  al- 
most ceased,  and  we  didn't  have  to  worry  about  Boche 
observation  balloons  seeing  us,  as  we  were  well  behind 
the  crest.  Occasionally  an  aeroplane  came  over,  but 
the  Allied  patrols  quickly  chased  it  away.  We  were 
also  fairly  close  to  civilization.  A  few  resolute  farmers 
still  tilled  the  land  below  in  the  valley.  The  city  of 
Commercy  was  only  seven  or  eight  kilometers  away. 
Luxuries  like  beer  could  be  easily  obtained  and  a 
crate  of  the  latter  would  be  sent  up  from  the  echelon 
every  other  night  or  so. 

In  order  to  strengthen  and  develop  the  position,  a 
large  amount  of  work  had  to  be  done.  Originally 
none  of  the  gun  pits  had  any  protection  whatever. 
Their  platforms  and  trail  pits  were  not  finished,  and 
there  were  no  ammunition  niches.  The  dugouts  were 
little  more  than  deep,  damp  holes  in  the  earth,  with  no 
sleeping  quarters  and  no  gas  protection.  The  kitchen 
was  in  the  open.  No  trench  system  linked  up  the  vari- 
ous parts  of  the  emplacement.  After  a  couple  of 
weeks  work,  however,  things  began  to  take  shape. 
Each  gun  pit  had  it  double  trail  log.  Sand  bag  walls 
and  sand  bag  and  tole  iron  roofing  made  them  splin- 
ter proof.  Ammunition  shelters  were  constructed  for 
over  five  thousand  rounds.  Splinter-proof  outdoor 
sleeping  quarters  were  built  beside  each  gun  pit.  Dug- 
outs were  "shored  up"  and  made  water  proof.  Double 
g^s  proof  doors  were  installed.  A  trench  was  dug, 
linking  up  the  Special  Detail  shack  with  the  kitchen 
and  the  third  and  fourth  section  abris.  The  whole 
place  was  made  really  strong  and  livable. 


96  BATTERY  A 

Owing  to  the  large  amount  of  firing  done  by  the 
Battery,  the  ammunition  question  always  occupied  at 
least  half  the  cannoneer's  time.  Every  night  or  so 
the  caissons  would  come  up.  Lines  of  men  would  be 
formed  between  them  and  the  ammunition  dumps,  and 
the  shells  would  be  "hopped"  down  the  lines.  No  time 
was  wasted  in  this  operation  because  one  could  never 
tell  when  the  Boche  would  "open  up",  and  horses  and 
men  in  the  open  are  an  extremely  vulnerable  target. 
Frequently  we  would  get  all  eight  caissons  unloaded 
in  seven  or  eight  minutes.  The  unloading  of  the 
shells  was  just  the  first  phase  of  the  ammunition 
question.  The  diflferent  lots  had  then  to  be  sorted 
out  and  the  shells  of  each  lot  stacked  (no  more  than 
five  deep)  in  the  shelters.  After  that  they  had  to  be 
put  in  shape  for  firing.  The  rotating  bands  had  to  be 
scraped,  cleaned  and  greased.  Then  there  were  the 
fuses:  the  yellows,  reds,  blacks,  whites,  and  longs. 
They  all  had  to  be  sorted  out  too. 

The  Battery  fired  3,494  rounds  in  this  position,  at 
many  diflferent  targets.  The  Sector  was  so  extended 
that  we  were  responsible  for  no  less  than  11  barrages, 
7  C.  P.  O.'s  and  7  concentrations.  The  barrages  and 
C.  P.  O.'s  (Counter  Preparation  OflFensive)  were  all 
named  according  to  the  segment  of  the  line  in  defense 
of  which  they  were  fired.  The  barrages  included  the 
Normal  Apremont  Barrage  in  defense  of  the  famous 
and  much  fought  over  "Goose  Neck,"  Ponds  Barrage, 
Redoute  Barrage,  Knight  Barrage,  Left  eventual 
(supporting  the  French  on  our  left)  E  Battery's  Nor- 
mal (in  case  E  Battery  were  put  out  of  action),  C 
Battery's  Normal  (in  case  C  were  put  out  of  action), 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  97 

and  three  others  all  supporting  the  French.  The 
C.  P.  O.'s  were  directed  against  the  enemy  front  lines 
in  case  he  were  caught  forming  for  an  attack.  They 
were  called  C.  P.  O.  General,  C.  P.  O.  Redoute,  and 
C  P.  O.  Apremont,  C.  P.  O.  Varnieville,  C.  P.  O.  Bis, 
C  P.  O.  4  and  C  P.  O.  T.  C.  P.  O.  General  was  the 
most  important  of  these.  It  "combed"  an  area  200 
metres  in  depth  over  the  Boche  front  lines.  The  con- 
centrations were  directed  at  sensitive  points  behind 
the  lines  such  as  junctions  of  trenches,  machine  gun 
posts,  dugouts,  or  important  communication  trenches. 

During  the  twenty  days  that  we  occupied  this  posi- 
tion, 12  C.  P.  O.'s,  21  concentrations,  and  13  barrages 
were  fired.  Also  cross  roads  were  shelled  13  times, 
important  trenches  24  times,  and  the  guns  were 
registered  13  times.  Owing  to  the  range,  (the 
guns  being  5,500  meters  from  the  lines)  we  could  en- 
gage in  no  counter-battery  work. 

The  rates  of  fire  for  a  barrage  or  C.  P.  O.  as  well 
as  the  barrage  signals  varied  frequently.  At  first  the 
barrage  rate  was  six  rounds  per  piece  per  minute  for 
three  minutes,  three  rounds  per  piece  per  minute  for 
three  minutes,  one  round  per  piece  per  minute  for  one 
minute,  a  total  of  124  rounds  in  seven  minutes.  Later 
the  rate  changed  to  six  rounds  per  piece  per  minute 
for  four  minutes,  two  rounds  per  piece  per  minute 
for  four  minutes.  The  original  C.  P.  O.  rate  was  four 
rounds  per  piece  per  minute  for  five  minutes,  two 
rounds  per  piece  per  minute  for  ten  minutes,  for  a 
total  of  160  rounds  in  15  minutes.  Barrages  were 
ca".ed  for  by  telephone  or  by  rocket.  In  case  of  at- 
tack, the  Infantry  would  fire  a  rocket  from  the  front 


98  BATTERY  A 

lines,  which  would  be  promptly  relayed  from  a  Rocket 
Relay  Station,  so  that  all  batteries  could  see  it.  Rocket 
signals  often  changed.  A  six  star  red  rocket  was 
the  usual  one.  C.  P.  O.'s  and  concentrations  were 
fired  only  on  telephonic  orders  from  the  Battalion 
P.  C 

On  the  night  of  May  10th  we  were  relieved  by  B 
Battery.  May  10,  incidentally,  was  our  busiest  firing 
day  of  the  war  up  to  that  time;  1,173  rounds  in  all. 
In  the  very  early  morning  we  helped  repulse  a  pro- 
jector gas  attack  against  the  103rd  Infantry,  while 
later  on  we  engaged  in  a  Coup  de  Main.  This  latter 
was  quite  an  afifair.  Many  batteries  had  moved  in 
all  around  us  to  take  part  in  it.  Just  below  us  a  num- 
ber of  big  six  inch  gxms  had  been  towed  in  by  tractors 
for  the  "show."  Our  firing  diary  for  May  10  is  typical 
of  a  hard  day's  shoot. 

1.43  Apremont  Barrage  (the  Boche  had  launched  a 
projector  attack  upon  the  103rd  Infantry.) 

1.53  Knight  Barrage 

4.45  Coup  de  Main,  Breslau  Trench 

5.14  Concentration  354  (on  Boche    support    lines) 
200  gas  shell 

5.41  Apremont  Barrage 

5.51  Breslau  Trench 

6.50  Boyau  Seelow,  Harrassing  Fire 
12.35  Boyau  Seelow 
17.05  Boyau  Seelow 
19.15  Boyau  Seelow 
20.33  Normal  Knight  Barrage 
20.35  C.  P.  O.  General 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  99 

20.38  Normal  Knight  Barrage,  (the  Boche  attacked 

our  infantry.) 
20.48  Same  and  increase  by  100  meters 
21.00  Relieved  by  B  Battery 

When  B  Battery  relieved  us  we  took  their  place 
in  the  "Flying  Battalion"  under  Major  Richardson. 
On  the  morning  of  May  1 1  we  marched  back  again  to 
our  old  echelon  at  Rangeval,  with  our  four  guns,  nine 
caissons,  forge  and  store  wagon.  Battery  wagon, 
fourgon,  two  park  wagons,  water  cart,  ration  cart, 
and  rolling  kitchen.  After  establishing  the  horse  lines 
in  the  old  "Brick  Factory",  the  firing  battery  started 
forward  in  the  dark  for  a  reserve  position  about  a  half 
mile  west  of  Mandres.  What  a  night  followed !  The 
continuous  rains  of  the  preceding  week  had  turned 
the  Woevre  Plains  into  a  soft,  miry  morass.  It  was 
impossible  to  pull  wagons  around  on  anything  but  the 
best  main  roads.  Everywhere  else  the  wheels  would 
sink  in  up  to  their  hubs.  Now  the  reserve  position 
for  which  we  were  heading  lay  about  two  hundred 
meters  from  the  main  road,  on  the  edge  of  a  water- 
covered  swamp.  The  only  possible  way  to  get  the 
g^ns  to  it  lay  over  a  soft,  muddy  field,  partially  coh- 
ered with  water.  The  outlook  was  hopeless  to  start 
with,  but  an  attempt  had  to  be  made.  With  ten  horses 
on  each  gun,  the  sections  started  out  at  five  minute  in- 
tervals. The  horses  sank  deep  into  the  mud  at  every 
step.  The  2nd,  3rd  and  4th  pieces  almost  got  across 
but  finally  became  hopeless,  mired  in  an  especially  soft 
spot.  The  horses  wallowed  around  until  they  were 
completely  exhausted.  Try  as  they  would,  no  further 


100  BATTERY  A 

progress  could  be  made.  The  eannoneers  dug  out 
around  the  wheels  and  "shored"  them  up  with  duck 
boards,  but  to  no  avail.  At  daylight  the  next  morn- 
ing the  three  pieces  were  stuck  worse  than  ever.  Their 
axles  were  out  of  sight.  The  horses  had  completely 
worn  themselves  out  by  their  efforts  and  were  of  no 
more  use.  The  first  section  alone  had  managed  to 
get  through.  Its  two  chunky  little  "wheelers,"  "Pete" 
and  "Shrimp"  never  pulled  so  hard  before  or  after- 
wards, but  their  efforts  on  this  occasion  saved  the 
Battery  from  a  very  humiliating  situation.  As  it  was, 
when  daylight  came  the  next  morning,  only  one  gun 
was  in  position.  The  other  three  were  camouflaged 
with  bushes  where  they  were  until  evening,  when  an- 
other attempt  with  fresh  horses  finally  succeeded. 

This  reserve  position  was  not  a  pleasant  one  to 
occupy.  It  was  far  better  called  the  "Swamp  Posi- 
tion." Its  gun  pits  and  trenches  were  all  under  water. 
In  the  unfinished  dugouts  the  water  was  seven  or 
eight  feet  deep,  while  in  the  main  trench  it  came  to 
the  top  of  a  man's  hip  rubber  boots.  The  kitchen  was 
set  up  in  a  shack  about  three  hundred  yards  to  the 
rear  in  the  middle  of  a  sea  of  mud,  while  the  men  lived 
as  best  they  could.  A  few  scattered  tar-paper  huts 
took  care  of  part  of  them,  while  the  upper  bunks  in  the 
flooded  dugouts  housed  the  remainder. 

Luckily  for  everyone  General  Aultman,  the  Brig- 
ade Commander,  visited  the  position  when  conditions 
were  at  their  worst.  He  promised  a  change  as  soon 
as  possible. 

The  next  move  developed  into  one  of  the  pleasant- 
est  and  most  enjoyable  trips  of  the  war.    A  and  C  Bat- 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  101 

teries  were  ordered  to  go  up  to  Pont  a  Mousson  to 

assist  the  French  in  a  Coup  de  Main.     During  the 

night  of  May  19  our  drivers  came  up  from  the  echelon 

and  pulled  the  guns  out  to  the  main  road  at  "Hill  Top 

Crossing"  where  motor  trucks  were  waiting.     Each 

battery  had  five, — one  for  each  gun  and  crew,  and  one 

for  the  kitchen  and   special   detail    equipment.      By 

means  of  I-beams,  the   guns    were    quickly    loaded 

aboard,  and  in  thirty  minutes  the  "Flying  Battalion" 

was  on  its  way.    About  midnight  we  arrived  at  a  little 

town  called  Gezoncourt  where  we  stopped  for  the 

night  and  next  day.    We  found  it  full  of  Senegalese 

negroes  who  were  to  go  over  the  top  in  the  coming 

raid.    With  great  glee  they  showed  us  their  sharp 

knives  from  the  forests  of  Senegal  and  demonstrated 

how  they  were  going  to  scalp  all  the  Boches  they  met. 

A  river  which  ran  by  the  town  afforded  everyone  a 

chance  to  get  his  first  real  swim  since  coming  to 

France. 

On  the  night  of  May  20  we  again  went  forward 
on  the  trucks,  this  time  to  the  little  deserted  village 
of  Mamey,  about  5,000  yards  from  the  front  lines. 
Limbers  of  the  269th  French  Artillery  picked  up  our 
guns  here  and  hauled  them  to  an  open  position  just 
south  of  the  St.  Dizier-Metz  Road.  There  were  many 
old,  abandoned  positions  on  all  sides  of  us,  but  they 
were  all  well  known  to  the  Boche  and  would  be  sure 
to  draw  retaliating  fire.  Ours  was  little  more  than  a 
dummy  position,  with  just  outlines  of  the  gun  pits 
hollowed  out.  Our  mission  was  to  stay  unobserved 
until  "J  Day."  Consequently  we  covered  the  guns 
with  camouflage,  after  "laying  them  in,"  and  went 


102  BATTERY  A 

back  to  Mamey  to  live  with  the  French  for  two  days, 
only  returning  to  clean  ammunition  under  cover  of 
darkness.  "J  Day"  was  May  22.  "Zero  hour"  was 
midnight.  The  French  Senegalese  were  to  attack  a 
salient  of  the  enemy  trenches  known  as  the  "Goose 
Neck,"  and  A  Battery  was  to  fire  a  neutralizing  fire 
against  the  German  support  position  in  the  Camp  de 
Ravin  with  the  object  of  cutting  off  the  German  re- 
serves. For  the  first  ten  minutes  of  the  attack  we 
fired  170  rounds  of  gas  and  followed  that  for  forty- 
two  minutes  with  447  rounds  of  High  Explosives. 
The  Coup  de  Main  was  very  successful.  A  number 
of  prisoners  were  taken,  and  much  information  ob- 
tained. The  French  Infantry  Commander  was  well 
pleased  with  our  firing  and  presented  each  officer  of 
the  batteries  with  a  finely  engraved  placard  as  a  me- 
mento of  the  appreciation  of  his  regiment.  After  the 
Mamey  expedition,  Major  Richardson's  "Flying 
Battalion"  motored  back  to  the  town  of  Bernecourt, 
about  four  miles  east  of  the  old  "Swamp  Position" 
where  it  was  to  help  relieve  the  228th  French  Artil- 
lery. A's  position,  situated  on  the  northwestern  edge 
of  the  town,  really  consisted  of  two  separate  battery 
emplacements  about  200  yards  apart.  Neither  had 
any  protection  for  its  gun  pits,  but  the  one  near- 
er the  town  had  some  very  excellent  dugouts.  They 
were  not  only  strong  but  were  also  dry  and  comfort- 
able. The  second  platoon  occupied  the  forward  em- 
placement, and  the  first  platoon,  the  rear  one.  Theo- 
retically, the  latter  was  supposed  to  be  silent  and  un- 
known to  the  Boche,  while  the  former  was  to  do  all 
the  firing.    Actually,  however,  it  didn't  setgm  to  make 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  103 

much  difference,  as  they  were  both  shelled  about 
equally.  The  French  assured  us  that  it  was  a  "tres 
bon  secteur"  and  "tres  calme".  Nevertheless  we  be- 
gan to  doubt  their  word  the  very  next  night  when 
the  Germans  launched  a  Coup  de  Main  against  the 
101st  Infantry.  They  tried  to  neutralize  us  by  de- 
luging us  with  everything  in  their  repertoire:  77's, 
88's,  ISO's,  chlorine,  and  phosgene  gas,  interspersed 
with  plenty  of  high  explosives.  Their  efforts  at  neu- 
tralization did  not  accomplish  their  purpose,  but 
Sergeant  Newell  Ripley,  while  running  to  his  post 
at  the  third  piece  was  killed  by  a  gas  shell.  Stevens, 
Fowler,  McCann  and  Ricker  were  slightly  wounded, 
and  Williams,  Kennedy,  and  Horn  were  slightly 
gassed.  Goodwin  and  McCann  both  did  splendid 
work  in  holding  matches  out  in  front  of  their  guns 
after  their  aiming  stick  lights  had  been  smashed  by 
the  Boche  shells;  early  in  the  attack  McCann  had 
been  painfully  wounded  but  he  kept  on  with  his 
work  without  a  word  about  it  until  all  the  firing 
was  over.  The  Battery  was  extremely  lucky  to  es- 
cape as  easily  as  it  did.  No  less  than  37  shell  splin- 
ters were  picked  up  in  the  first  section  gun  pit,  yet 
Stevens  was  the  only  man  touched. 

The  biggest  addition  to  the  Battery  at  Bernecourt 
were  two  old  French  90  millimeter  pieces.  It  was 
almost  worth  charging  admission  to  watch  Corporal 
Rowan  and  his  crew  of  Macgregor,  Forzato,  Loyal 
Foley,  Lawrence,  Edgar  Bowers  and  Thurston  fire 
them.  The  guns  had  no  recoil,  and  when  they  fired, 
the  muzzles  would  bang  down  and  the  wheels  and 
trails  would  run  back  up  an  inclined  plane  amidst 


104  BATTERY  A 

clouds  of  dust  and  tremendous  cheering   from    the 
gun  crew. 

As  a  rule  there  was  not  much  firing  by  either  side 
in  the  daytime.  One  could  walk  around  with  com- 
parative safety.  "Peace  time  warfare"  became  a  real 
pleasure  coupled  with  the  combination  of  good  food 
and  good  weather.  Even  baseball  games  were  indulged 
in  frequently  on  a  nearby  field  until  several  were 
broken  up  by  untimely  "Boche  rafales."  Inspectors 
were  the  most  dangerous  things  to  watch  out  for  in 
the  day  time.  They  were  liable  to  come  around  at  any 
moment,  and  woe  be  to  the  section  whose  gun  guard 
was  not  properly  tending  to  business  or  whose  shells 
were  not  immaculately  cleaned  or  whose  gas  material 
was  not  in  the  right  place.  Each  gun  pit  had  to  be 
the  acme  of  cleanliness  and  neatness.  The  gun  had 
to  be  spotless  at  all  times.  The  shells  had  to  be  shin- 
ing and  piled  neatly  five  deep.  One  shell  was  always 
left  on  the  trail  ready  for  instant  use.  The  gas  cloth- 
ing,— gas  suits,  gas  gloves  and  tissot  masks, — had 
to  be  left  neatly  tied  up  and  arranged  in  an  orderly 
manner.  The  shells  had  to  be  sorted  out  according 
to  lots  and  the  gas  shells  had  to  be  in  separate  pits 
by  themselves.  Then  the  empty  shell  cases  from  the 
previous  night's  firing  had  to  be  carried  away  and  the 
incoming  ammunition  cleaned  and  sorted.  In  the  day- 
time the  cannoneers'  time  was  well  taken  up  in  car- 
rying out  the  above  regulations ! 

After  dusk  it  did  not  pay  to  wander  far  from  the 
dugouts.  Anything  in  the  way  of  shelling  could  be 
expected.    The  cross  roads  back  of  the  position  and 


FIRST    PIECE   AT    BONCOURT   WITH    GUN    CREW   ORGANIZED    AFTER 
THE    CASUALTIES    ON    APRIL    21 


HORSE  LINE  AT  TROUSSEY  ON  THE  BANK  OF  THE  MEUSE  RIVER.  PICKET  LINE  IS 
STRETCHED  FROM  BATTERY  WAGON  TO  SUCCESSIVE  CAISSONS.  A  TWO  DAY  STOP 
BEFORE  THE  TRANSFER  TO  THE  CHATEAU-THIERRY   SECTOR. 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  105 

the  one  south  of  the  town  always  received  their  al- 
lotment of  ISO's,  although  frequently  the  engineers 
and  doughboys  who  lived  along  the  road  caught  the 
shells,  rather  than  the  road  itself.  The  Battery  four- 
gon  and  caissons  had  many  exciting  times  as  they 
came  up  in  the  evening.  Once  when  the  fourth 
piece  was  coming  back  from  the  Ordnance  Repair 
Shop,  a  large  shell  landed  in  the  road  just  in  front  of 
the  horses.  It  blew  the  lead  pair  into  the  gutter  and 
it  snapped  off  the  pole  of  the  limber.  Jensen,  who 
was  driving  wheel,  cut  loose  one  of  his  horses  and 
galloped  all  the  way  up  to  the  position  to  report  the 
trouble.  Sgt.  Chandler  took  several  men  down  with 
the  fourgon  and  managed  to  lash  the  gun  on  behind 
and  tow  it  up.  During  June  the  wind  was  most  pro- 
voking. Every  evening  it  would  die  down  to  practi- 
cally nothing,  but  what  there  was  of  it  made  condi- 
tions ideal  for  enemy  gas.  Consequently,  almost 
every  night,  especially  at  about  one  or  two  A.  M.,  the 
Huns  would  amuse  themselves  by  dropping  just 
enough  gas  shells  around  to  make  the  air  rotten, 
and  in  the  calm  of  the  night  the  gas  would  lie  around 
for  hours.  Corporal  Peabody  was  our  expert  on  gas. 
He  had  just  come  back  from  a  gas  school,  and  when- 
ever anybody  got  a  whiff  of  any  bad  odor,  he  would 
always  yell  for  "Peabo"  to  sample  it  out  and  decide 
whether  it  was  dangerous  or  not. 

Both  Colonel  Logan's  and  Colonel  Sherburne's 
Command  Posts  were  in  Bernecourt.  One  night  a 
150  went  through  Colonel  Sherberne's  room  and 
exploded  beyond  it.  By  the  merest  chance  the 
Colonel  had  just  gone  out  about  a  minute  before. 


106  BATTERY  A 

Shortly  afterwards  a  shell  exploded  in  Colonel  Lo- 
gan's room,  but  he,  too,  was  lucky  enough  to  escape. 

Occasionally  the  Boche  became  really  irritated  and 
he  would  pound  away  at  the  Allied  lines  all  day  long. 
Once  the  Americans  engaged  in  a  big  projector-gas 
attack  followed  by  a  heavy  artillery  concentration. 
It  caught  the  enemy  unawares,  in  fact,  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  himself  was  about  to  attack.  He 
promptly  retaliated  by  pounding  the  Allied  front 
lines,  battery  positions,  and  every  town  within  ten 
miles  of  the  front.  He  shelled  A's  position  eighteen 
times  in  the  next  ten  hours.  Luck,  however,  was 
against  him.  No  one  was  hit  and  no  damage  was 
done  outside  of  tearing  up  almost  every  telephone 
wire  in  the  town  and  getting  two  direct  hits  on  an 
unoccupied  gun  pit  and  a  trench.  Eliot  Mann  had  a 
most  sensational  escape.  He  was  carrying  a  bag  of 
empty  shell-cases  down  the  trench  when  he  heard 
the  whine  of  an  approaching  77.  He  dropped  the  bag 
and  dove  around  a  corner.  The  shell  exploded  in  the 
trench  on  top  of  his  bag! 

From  June  11  to  the  21st,  Battery  A  of  the  119th 
Field  Artillery  (American)  trained  with  us.  They 
occupied  our  second  platoon's  position,  our  third  and 
fourth  pieces  moving  to  our  first  platoon  emplace- 
ment. They  were  on  their  first  trip  to  the  front  and 
were  very  keen  to  learn.  They  did  fine  work  in  build- 
ing up  and  developing  the  gun  pits. 

During  the  first  week  in  June  several  big  scares 
of  a  Boche  oflfensive  spread  around.  Aviators  re- 
ported seeing  forty  troop  trains  come  in  behind  the 
German  lines,  and  we  were  warned  to  get  everything 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  107 

ready  for  the  expected  attack.  Barbed  wire  entangle- 
ments were  erected,  grenade  pits  were  dug  behind 
them,  and  thermite  grenades  were  issued  to  each 
section  for  destroying  the  piece  at  the  last  minute  in 
case  of  capture.  On  the  night  of  June  7,  information 
obtained  from  prisoners  indicated  that  the  attack  was 
coming  before  daybreak.  The  horses  were  harnessed 
and  hitched  and  the  limbers  were  brought  up  close 
behind  Bernecourt  to  be  ready  to  haul  the  guns  out 
if  necessary. 

The  third  piece  was  run  out  to  the  "Tank  Posi- 
tion" so  that  it  could  fire  point  blank  at  any  tank  that 
might  get  through  the  first  defenses.  Corporal  Bird 
went  out  near  the  front  lines  to  signal  back  in  case 
tanks  were  seen  advancing.  No  one  envied  Bird  his 
job !  However,  the  expected  attack  never  materialized. 

Owing  to  the  length  of  the  Divisional  Sector,  each 
battery  of  artillery  had  a  large  number  of  missions. 
The  most  vulnerable  points  of  attack  were  defended 
by  the  Normal  Barrages  of  the  various  batteries, 
while  the  intervening  spaces  were  supported  by 
"Eventual  Barrages."  A  Battery  was  responsible 
for  seventeen  different  barrages,  as  well  as  four  C. 
P.  0.*s  named  Sirenes,  Mort  Mare,  Bee  de  Canard 
and  General,  and  three  concentrations.  The  90's  had 
no  barrage  missions.  In  case  of  attack  they  would 
concentrate  against  junctions  of  trenches  and  enemy 
batteries.  In  the  course  of  our  stay  at  Bernecourt 
our  two  90  guns  fired  a  total  of  540  rounds  while  the 
75's  fired  5206  rounds.  The  75  firing  was  divided  as 
follows : 

Barrages,  20  times;  C.  P.  0.*s,  10  times;  Concen- 


108  BATTERY  A 

trations,  5  times;  Reprisals,  5  times;  Registration,16 
times;  Counter  Battery,  11  times;  Special  Targets,  39 
times. 

Our  reprisal  fire  was  directed  against  a  Boche 
Command  Post.  For  some  time  the  enemy  had  been 
shelling  our  two  Infantry  command  posts  (P.  C. 
Conde  and  P.  C.  Jeanne  d'Arc)  with  great  frequency 
and  had  made  each  one  a  very  dangerous  place  to 
approach.  It  was  therefore  decided  to  retaliate  every 
time  they  were  fired  upon.  Whenever  a  shell  burst 
near  P.  C.  Conde,  our  mission  was  to  drop  fifty  or 
one  hundred  on  top  of  a  certain  Boche  P.  C.  As  a 
result,  our  P.  C.'s  were  left  alone  thereafter! 

Counter  Battery  work  always  gave  us  great  pleas- 
ure. One  enemy  battery  in  particular,  called  "0248", 
caused  us  especial  inconvenience.  It  was  a  battery 
of  88's,  which  shelled  the  road  back  of  us  every  night 
and  everyone  took  great  delight  in  giving  it  a  taste 
of  its  own  medicine. 

We  participated  in  one  oflFensive  Coup  de  Main 
when  the  101st  Infantry  attacked  the  Camp  du  Moulin 
to  get  information  and  capture  prisoners.  Our  mission 
was  to  neutralize  the  enemy  supports  by  a  heavy 
gas  concentration.  Many  French  batteries  came  in  to 
assist  in  the  "show." 

We  also  helped  repulse  two  enemy  Coup  de  Mains 
— one  against  the  101st  Infantry  near  Limey  and  the 
other  against  the  103rd  Infantry  at  Xivray.  In  both 
attacks,  our  position  was  shelled  very  heavily,  but  in 
spite  of  it  we  fired  barrages  for  several  hours  in  each 
case. 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  109 

Our  observation  Post  (O  T  10)  gave  us  splendid 
opportunities  to  register.  It  was  situated  in  a  front 
line  trench  on  the  northern  edge  of  the  Bois  Jure 
and  overlooked  a  large  area  of  Boche  territory. 
Every  other  day  or  so  we  would  register  the  various 
lots  of  ammunition  and  check  our  firing  data. 

On  June  27  our  stay  in  the  Toul  Sector  ended.  A 
French  Regiment  which  had  just  come  down  from  the 
battles  on  the  Somme  relieved  us,  to  rest  and  recuper- 
ate, while  we,  our  training  period  ended,  went  to  test 
our  prowess  in  more  desperate  fields. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  memorable  forced 
marches  coming  into  the  Toul  sector,  over  three 
months  before,  the  colonel  formed  his  regimental 
column  on  the  night  of  June  28.  We  were  starting  on 
the  first  leg  of  an  unknown  journey.  The  picket  lines 
at  Andilly  had  been  left  spotlessly  clean.  Mounted 
inspections  had  been  held.  Men,  horses,  and  equip- 
ment were  ready  for  the  hardest  kind  of  work.  We 
were  leaving  "Peace  Time  Warfare"  behind  us.  What 
the  future  had  in  store  no  one  yet  knew,  but  we  all 
felt  confident  that  whatever  it  might  be,  it  could  not 
be  too  hard  for  us. 

We  marched  steadily  all  night  long.  The  Very 
lights,  flares,  and  aeroplane  rockets  of  our  old  sector 
grew  dimmer  and  dimmer  as  the  hours  went  by. 
Shortly  after  daybreak  we  drew  into  the  town  of 
Troussey,  where  we  were  to  rest  for  the  next  few 
days.  Our  park  was  established  and  our  picket  lines 
stretched  in  a  little  meadow  close  by  the  river  Meuse, 
the  men  themselves  going  up  into  the  town  to  billet. 


no  BATTERY  A 

The  several  days  that  followed  were  indeed  a  real 
rest.  Fine  warm  weather  coupled  with  excellent 
swimming  facilities  and  a  good  athletic  field  made 
things  ideal  for  sport.  Everyone  temporarily  forgot 
that  the  war  was  going  on.  It  was  rudely  brought 
back  on  June  30,  however,  when  we  got  orders  that 
we  would  entrain  from  the  town  of  Vaucouleurs  that 
very  evening.  A  short  road  march  of  about  ten  kilo- 
meters brought  us  to  the  entraining  point  just  after 
dark,  a  fact  which  quite  cancelled  any  hopes  of  a 
speedy  loading,  owing  to  the  necessity  of  showing  no 
lights,  the  enemy  avions  being  in  the  habit  of  bomb- 
ing the  railroad  yards  at  the  slightest  opportunity. 
By  ten  o'clock,  however,  the  train  was  moving  out 
of  the  station,  with  horses,  men,  and  materiel  safely 
loaded  aboard. 

Our  destination  was  still  in  doubt.  We  felt  cer- 
tain that  we  were  going  north,  but  that  was  as  much 
as  we  knew.  The  rumors  grew  more  and  more  per- 
sistent that  we  were  going  to  parade  in  Paris  on  the 
fourth  of  July;  we  all  hoped  so.  Inasmuch  as  the 
Germans  had  cut  the  main  railroad  line  at  Chateau- 
Thierry  in  their  June  advance,  traffic  had  to  go 
down  around  by  Troyes  in  order  to  get  to  Paris  and 
points  north  but  we  did  not  realize  that  at  the  time. 
Accordingly,  when  the  next  day  found  us  rapidly  ap- 
proaching the  metropolis  of  France  from  the  South, 
everyone  felt  confident  that  that  was  to  be  our  desti- 
nation. Things  certainly  looked  bright  for  a  while. 
The  EiflFel  Tower  appeared  in  the  distance.  The  city 
itself  was  springing  up  on  all  sides.  The  great  junc- 
tion of  Noisy  le  Sec  was  slowly  passed.    But  when  the 


THE  TOUL  SECTOR  111 

train  stopped  everyone's  hopes  sank  lower  and 
lower.  The  train  moved  out  again — IN  THE  OPPO- 
SITE DIRECTION!  We  were  a  disgusted  crowd. 
To  be  inside  the  limits  of  Paris  and  then  to  be  sud- 
denly snatched  away :  well,  we  were  "Off  the  Army" ! 
Yet  we  did  learn  one  thing  at  Noisy  Le  Sec  and  that 
was  our  destination,  or  rather,  our  detraining  point. 
It  was  to  be  St.  Mard,  a  town  about  35  kilometers 
away — within  a  short  distance  of  Meaux,  and  not  so 
very  far  from  the  Soissons  Chateau-Thierry  battle 
front ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CHATEAU-THIERRY 

A  BOUT  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  July  1,  our 
"^  train  pulled  into  St.  Mard.  Not  a  light  showed 
in  the  train  yards,  and  the  French  brakeman  warned 
us,  almost  in  a  whisper,  that  the  Boche  aeroplanes  had 
bombed  the  town  every  night  for  over  two  weeks. 
Rather  naturally,  therefore,  we  did  not  waste  much 
time  in  detraining.  The  ramps  were  exceedingly 
limited,  but  in  spite  of  that  fact  we  had  all  the  horses 
and  guns  off  the  train  and  were  on  our  way  within 
forty-five  minutes  of  the  time  we  arrived.  The 
knowledge  that  bombs  may  explode  around  you  at 
any  moment  is  a  tremendous  incentive  to  speed,  es- 
pecially when  there  are  no  dugouts  around. 

Rumors  as  to  our  destination  were  flying  around 
thick  and  fast.  We  had  been  notified  that  it  was  a 
town  called  Boutigny,  but  where  was  that  ?  We  were 
told  by  an  old  French  peasant  that  it  was  about  28 
kilometers  away;  a  fact  far  from  encouraging  on  a 
very  dark  night  and  with  no  definite  idea  as  to  what 
direction  to  take.  Our  scouts  however,  who  were 
sent  off  in  different  directions  to  find  the  route,  did 
not  take  long  to  guide  us  on  our  way. 

All  night  long  we  marched.  We  could  plainly  see 
the  flashes  of  the  distant  guns  on  the  front,  while 
every  once  in  a  while  the  uneven  drone  of  the  Boche 
avions  cautioned  us  to  put  out  our  cigarettes.  Day- 
light found  us  entering  the  outskirts  of  Meaux,  still 


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CHATEAU-THIERRY  113 

traveling,  and  as  far  as  we  knew  no  rest  or  sleep  in 
sight.  As  the  horses  grew  more  and  more  tired  the 
troubles  of  the  rear  of  the  column  increased,  with  its 
park  wagons,  fourgon,  ration  cart,  and  water  cart. 
The  park  wagons  were  unwieldly  anyway,  but  es- 
pecially so  when  both  drivers  and  horses  were  nine- 
tenths  asleep.  First  one  would  get  stuck,  and  then 
the  other.  The  climax  came  on  going  down  the  long 
hill  into  Meaux.  The  ration  cart  broke  one  of  its 
shafts  (because  the  horse  lay  down  to  sleep)  and 
when  once  down,  he  refused  to  get  up  again  in  spite 
of  all  the  urging,  caressing,  pleading  and  beating  that 
we  could  heap  upon  him.  Nevertheless,  regardless 
of  all  these  customary  marching  difficulties,  we  at 
last  pulled  into  Boutigny  at  6.30  A.  M.  We  quickly 
parked  our  guns  and  established  the  picket  lines  for 
the  horses.  A  small  rivulet  was  soon  found  where 
we  could  water  the  latter,  and  after  they  had  been 
watered  and  fed,  everybody  with  one  accord  dropped 
in  their  tracks,  to  sleep  all  day.  Towards  evening  the 
"epicures"  of  the  Battery  started  to  stir  around  the 
village  to  find  out  what  kind  of  a  place  it  was.  They 
reported  that  it  was  "pas  bon".  Wine  was  scarce; 
very  few  eggs  or  eatables  could  be  purchased;  and 
the  billets  were  poor.  These  three  things  told  us  the 
value  of  any  town. 

By  the  next  day,  July  3,  everybody  was  feeling 
in  trim  and  ready  for  hard  work  again.  The  drivers 
were  soon  busy  cleaning  their  harness  and  giving  the 
horses  a  real,  thorough  grooming,  while  the  cannon- 
eers refreshed  themselves  in  "Open  Warfare"  drills, 
picking  up  distant  aiming  points  and  firing  at  fleeting 


114  BATTERY  A 

targets.  We  all  thought  that  we  would  soon  have 
use  for  this  old  American  method  of  firing  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact  it  turned  out  to  be  entirely  unpracti- 
cal, even  in  the  rapidest  kind  of  open  warfare.  The 
accurate  French  system  of  map  firing  proved  to  be 
the  best  and  easiest  on  every  occasion. 

July  4  was  a  banner  day  for  those  of  us  who  hap- 
pened to  be  athletes.  We  went  down  to  Meaux  to 
compete  with  the  101st  Infantry  in  athletics. 

The  artillery  easily  won  the  track  events  and 
boxing  but  lost  a  very  close  and  interesting  baseball 
game  2-1.  Those  of  us  who  were  left  behind  cleaned 
equipment  and  guns  and  repacked  the  park  wagons, 
preparatory  to  an  early  start  that  evening.  The  hay 
issue  for  the  horses  was  very  short,  but  we  managed 
to  buy  some  from  the  French  peasants  to  fill  in  the 
gap. 

By  eight  o'clock  that  night  the  Battery  was  once 
again  harnessed  and  hitched  ready  to  move.  An  ex- 
tra long  hike  was  in  store,  but  fortunately  for  the 
cannonneers,  who  otherwise  would  have  had  to  walk, 
trucks  were  available  for  the  transportation  of  dis- 
mounted men.  After  traveling  steadily  for  eight 
hours  along  some  of  the  darkest  roads  conceivable, 
with  just  enough  halts  to  rest  the  horses,  the  rest  of 
us  reached  the  outskirts  of  Jouarre,  our  first  night's 
objective.  The  cannonneers  had  already  arrived  and 
had  even  enjoyed  a  good  night's  sleep.  Whereupon, 
most  of  them,  with  a  day  of  leisure  on  their  hands, 
went  down  to  the  nearby  city  of  La  Ferte  to  sight-' 
see,  and  spend  their  money.  The  drivers,  however^ 
just  took  time  enough  to  stretch  the  picket  line  and 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  115 

to  water  and  feed  the  horses  before  they  crawled  un- 
der their  caissons,  to  snatch  a  few  hours  sleep. 

Experience  in  the  army  had  taught  everyone  not 
to  believe  that  anything  was  true  until  that  thing  ac- 
tually happened.    Just  because  we  had  been  told  that 
we  would  probably  stay  in  Jouarre  for  twenty-four 
hours  did  not  prove  that  we  would  remain  so  long; 
in  fact,  it  would  usually  be  a  safe  wager  that  the  op- 
posite would  happen.  Orders  were  continually  chang- 
ing.   The  following  night  was  a  classic.    Late  in  the 
afternoon  orders  were  received  to  be  ready  to  move 
out  at  6.30  P.  M.    We  were,  but  that  was  as  far  as 
we  got.    Ten  o'clock  came;  we  were  still  ready  to 
move  out !    Finally,  definite  orders  arrived :  "Unhar- 
ness and  unhitch,  we  will  stay  here  until  tomorrow." 
Yet  the  night  had  just  begun!    The  men  had  hardly 
lain  down  and  hardly  stopped  airing  their  opinions 
about  the  army  and  its  ever  changing  plans  before 
somebody  sang  out  "All  up,  harness  as  fast  as  you 
can;  we  have  got  to  make  25  kilometers  before  day- 
break."   In  the  meantime,  the  battery  commanders 
were  tearing  up  and  down  the  roads  many  kilometers 
to  the  west,  trying  in  vain  to  find  the  Regiment.  They 
had  gone  forward  to  reconnoitre  the  front  and  to  ar- 
range for  the  relief  with  the  Second  Division  when 
information  was  received  that  the  Germans  would 
probably  launch  an  attack  within  forty-eight  hours. 
Consequently,  all  previous  plans  were  thrown  into 
confusion.    Instead  of  relieving  the  Second  Division, 
the  26th  was  to  take  up  Reserve  positions  in  the  rear, 
and  to  act  as  the  second  line  of  defense  in  case  the 
enemy  broke  through. 


116  BATTERY  A 

The  regimental  commander  had  sealed  orders  to 
proceed  along  the  Chateau-Thierry  Highway  until 
stopped  and  given  subsequent  orders.  This  was  all 
our  Colonel  knew.  Uncertainty  reigned.  Nobody 
knew  where  the  regiment  was.  It  did  not  know  where 
it  was  expected  to  go  and,  to  make  matters  worse, 
orders  were  constantly  crossing  each  other.  By  day- 
light, however,  the  tangle  straightened  out ;  a  forced 
march  had  brought  the  echelon  to  Citry  on  the  banks 
of  the  Marne,  and  the  firing  battery  to  Limon  where 
they  bivouacked  for  the  day.  At  Limon  the  battery 
commanders  at  last  caught  their  organizations,  for 
which  they  had  been  searching  all  night. 

Limon  was  situated  on  the  high  plateau  overlook- 
ing the  valley  of  the  Marne.  Our  mission  was  to  or- 
ganize a  position  somewhere  in  its  neighborhood  from 
which  we  could  support  a  second  line  of  defence,  sup- 
posedly about  4000  meters  in  front  of  us.  The  ground 
was  accordingly  carefully  reconnoitred.  Two  separate 
platoon  positions  were  chosen.  The  first  platoon  was 
on  a  high  hill  near  Bezu  and  the  second  near  the 
Marne,  above  St.  Aulde.  The  latter  was  in  a  position 
to  cover  the  valley  leading  up  the  Paris-Metz  Road. 
It  was  situated  along  a  hedge  in  the  corner  of  a  wheat 
field  and  so  placed  that  the  two  guns  could  fire  point 
blank  at  anything  in  the  valley. 

The  expected  attack  never  developed,  and  we  had 
no  sooner  comfortably  established  ourselves  in  these 
positions  when  orders  arrived  for  the  Second  Platoon 
to  move  forward  to  relieve  a  platoon  of  Battery  A, 
of  the  12th  Field  Artillery,  much  to  the  Second  Pla- 
toon's regret,  because  it  was  in  a  splendid  location.    A 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  117 

great  chateau,  hastily  vacated  by  its  owners,  rose 
just  above  it,  with  its  gardens  full  of  fruit  and  vege- 
tables, all  ready  to  be  eaten.  Fine  "lavoirs"  or  wash- 
ing fountains  were  nearby,  giving  everybody  a  much 
needed  opportunity  to  wash  their  clothes,  and  last, 
but  first  in  importance,  everyone  welcomed  the  op- 
portunity to  get  a  swim  in  the  Marne.  But  the  war 
had  to  go  on  regardless  of  men's  desires.  Midnight 
found  the  third  and  fourth  pieces  jammed  in  the 
never  ending  stream  of  traffic,  winding  up  the  Paris- 
Metz  Road  through  Montreuil.  Once  again  the  old 
familiar  whine  of  approaching  shells  sang  out,  and 
once  again  the  rapid  bark  of  our  own  75's  cracked 
like  whips  on  all  sides.  We  were  now  really  in  an 
active  sector.  Both  sides  were  pounding  each  other 
continually.  Cross  roads  were  places  to  be  dreaded. 
One  never  lingered  near  them.  The  Americans  kept 
up  a  continuing  harassing  fire  all  night  long  on  every 
point  within  the  German  lines  where  the  latter  might 
possibly  assemble. 

Battery  A  of  the  12th  had  partially  developed  two 
positions  on  the  edges  of  a  wood  a  few  hundred 
metres  north  of  the  Paris-Metz  Highway,  slightly 
northwest  of  the  Paris  Farms.  Both  emplacements, 
we  found,  could  be  greatly  improved.  The  g^n  pits 
were  far  from  finished,  and  there  was  practically  no 
protection  against  enemy  fire,  what  trenches  there 
were  being  very  shallow  and  full  of  mud.  One  pla- 
toon was  to  be  in  each  position.  The  first  platoon's 
position  was  supposed  to  be  silent,  while  the  second's 
was  to  do  all  the  firing;  the  theory  being  to  save  the 
first  for  a  real  attack. 


118  BATTERY  A 

Of  course,  we  all  were  quite  excited  about  this 
new  sector.  All  during  June  we  had  heard  about 
Chateau-Thierry,  Belleau  Woods,  Bouresches,  etc. 
Now  we  were  there  ourselves.  The  front  lines  were 
about  4000  metres  in  front  of  us,  stretching  through 
a  deep  valley.  A  short  distance  to  the  south,  on  a 
bend  of  the  Marne,  lay  Chateau-Thierry,  with  that 
famous  Hill  204  cutting  most  of  it  off  from  view. 
Then  came  the  much  battered  village  of  Vaux  which 
had  just  been  captured  in  a  desperate  fight  a  few  days 
before.  It  was  a  "windy"  place  to  be  those  days,  as 
the  enemy  raked  it  with  machine  gun  and  trench  mor- 
tar fire  all  day  and  night.  A  little  farther  up  the  val- 
ley nestled  Bouresches,  a  point  of  tremendous  conten- 
tion for  both  sides.  Most  of  the  time  it  was  little 
more  than  No  Man's  Land  because  either  side  made 
it  too  "hot"  for  the  other  to  hold.  Beyond  Bouresches 
came  Belleau  and  Torcy,  both  within  the  German 
lines. 

On  the  American  side  of  the  valley,  Belleau  Woods 
stretched  out  from  Lucy  LeBocage  down  to  Belleau 
and  Bouresches.  It  had  been  terribly  smashed  by 
terrific  concentrations  of  artillery,  and  the  stench 
from  dead  bodies  and  mustard  gas  was  beyond  de- 
scription. Lucy  LeBocage  itself  was  never  free  from 
the  crash  of  ISO's.  Situated  as  it  was,  overlooking 
the  valley,  it  offered  a  splendid  target  to  enemy  ar- 
tillerymen. 

The  German  half  of  the  valley  sloped  gradually 
up  to  the  plateau  behind.  Open  fields,  interspersed 
with  bits  of  woods  here  and  there,  predominated. 
Several  large  farms  like   "La  Gonetrie"    stood   out 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  119 

prominently.  The  latter  became  a  favorite  registra- 
tion point  for  the  American  artillery.  The  155's  and 
75's  alike  registered  their  g^ns  there  daily. 

Of  course  in  a  new,  undeveloped,  active  sector 
like  this  one,  the  "front  lines"  were  a  myth.  They 
did  not  exist.  The  Infantry  had  no  protection  what- 
soever. They  lay  around  in  shallow  holes  or  hid 
among  the  wheat  and  bushes  as  best  they  could.  To 
show  one's  head  was  fatal.  The  enemy  was  relentless. 
Day  and  night  he  harassed  with  77's  and  gas. 

The  battery  positions  also  were  frequently  sub- 
jected to  heavy  fire,  but  C  Battery  was  the  only  one 
to  suffer  severely.  It  did  not  take  us  long  to  see  that 
our  work  was  cut  out  for  us  from  the  start.  To  de- 
velop our  positions  an  immense  amount  of  digging 
and  construction  work  had  to  be  done.  Ammunition 
had  to  be  brought  in  over  a  slippery  path  through  the 
woods,  and  cleaned,  and  we  had  to  maintain  a  steady 
harassing  fire  all  night.  All  sorts  of  schemes  were 
tried  out  to  help  the  ammunition  situation.  First,  we 
used  a  stretcher,  but  it  broke  on  its  third  trip;  then  we 
tried  a  vehicle,  closely  resembling  a  baby  carriage, 
without  much  success.  Next  we  tried  slinging  bags 
over  the  back  of  a  horse,  but  the  path  was  too  narrow 
and  slippery.  Finally,  we  were  back  where  we  started 
with  the  old  way  of  four  shells  in  a  sandbag. 

As  mentioned  above,  our  two  guns  in  the  active 
platoon  were  kept  busy  every  night  harassing  the 
German  lines.  As  a  rule,  two  cannonneers  on  each 
piece  were  sufficient  at  a  time,  but  even  at  that  the 
cannonneers  got  little  sleep,  between  digging  all  day 
and  firing  and  carrying  ammunition  all  night. 


120  BATTERY  A 

As  a  rule  our  firing  schedule  would  arrive  from 
Battalion  Headquarters  in  the  late  afternoon.  It 
would  usually  allot  us  about  four  hundred  rounds  to 
be  fired  on  designated  targets  such  as  machine  gun 
posts,  kitchen  abris,  or  strong  points  in  the  German 
lines.  The  night  of  July  9  might  be  taken  as  a  typical 
night's  firing: 

21.02  o'clock,  15  rounds,  village  of  Torcy;  21.10, 
20  rounds,  Woods  near  Les  Brusses  Fme;  21.14,  10 
rounds.  Village  of  Monthiers;  21.54,  20  rounds.  In- 
fantry Kitchen;  22.05,  15  rounds.  Village  of  Belleau; 
22.08,  10  rounds,  Cross  roads  S.  W.  of  Givry;  22.25, 
25  rounds.  Village  of  Torcy;  22.31,  25  rounds.  Village 
of  Torcy;  22.49,  10  rounds.  Infantry  Kitchen;  23.20, 
10  rounds,  Crossroads  S.  W.  of  Givry;  23.45,  5  rounds, 
Village  of  Belleau;  0.30  (A.  M.),  10  rounds,  Village 
of  Belleau;  0.48,  25  rounds.  Village  of  Monthiers;  1.35 
50  rounds,  Village  of  Belleau;  1.55,  25  rounds.  Village 
of  Etrepilly ;  2.15,  25  rounds.  Woods  near  Les  Brusses 
Fme;  2.35,  5  rounds.  Woods  near  Les  Brusses;  2.50, 
10  rounds.  Woods  near  Les  Brusses;  3.25,  10  rounds, 
Woods  near  Les  Brusses ;  3.30,  10  rounds.  Woods  near 
Les  Brusses;  4.10,  15  rounds.  Cross  Roads  S.  W.  of 
Givry ;  5.25,  50  rounds.  Woods  near  Les  Brusses,  Fme. 

We  kept  up  this  nightly  fire  steadily  between  July 
8  and  18.  The  days  would  be  fairly  quiet  but  as  soon 
as  dusk  stole  in,  all  the  batteries  in  the  sector  would 
open  up  and  continue  until  dawn.  The  ammunition 
we  were  getting  at  this  period  was  extremely  poor. 
It  was  all  very  old  and  dirty.  In  almost  every  other 
round  the  shell  case  would  burst  open.  It  was  really 
remarkable    that    more    accidents    did    not    happen 


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CHATEAU-THIERRY  121 

through  premature  bursts,  but  even  as  it  was,  a  num- 
ber of  guns  in  the  Brigade  did  blow  up.  We  were 
unfortunate  in  having  one  of  ours  blow  up  early  in 
the  morning  of  July  13.  The  fourth  piece,  of  which 
Ralph  Farnsworth  was  chief,  had  been  firing  inter- 
mittently during  the  night.  Farnsworth  was  acting 
as  gunner  and  Dyer  was  playing  No.  1.  At  3.50  A.  M. 
the  gun  blew  up,  instantly  killing  the  former  and 
badly  burning  the  latter. 

There  is  nothing  more  morale  breaking  or  terri- 
fying to  an  artilleryman  than  the  explosion  of  one  of 
his  own  guns.  Everyone  of  us  was  affected  by  this 
one  of  ours.  From  then  on,  we  never  took  any  chances 
in  firing.  We  always  fired  with  a  long  lanyard  and 
every  man  took  protection  before  each  shot. 

On  July  15,  the  first  platoon  relieved  the  second  in 
the  active  position,  the  guns  staying  where  they  were. 
As  usual  in  such  cases,  the  cannonneers  hated  to 
leave  their  own  guns.  They  did  not  welcome  the  idea 
of  someone  else  fooling  with  their  pet  pieces.  The 
same  was  true  of  the  drivers.  Let  someone  else  touch 
their  horses  without  permission,  and  there  would  be 
all  kinds  of  trouble.  In  fact,  there  never  yet  was  a 
section  that  did  not  claim  that  its  guns  and  horses 
were  infinitely  better  than  those  of  the  other  sections. 

The  enemy  artillery,  on  the  whole,  did  not  cause 
us  very  much  trouble.  They  frequently  dropped  big 
210's  on  the  woods  and  area  just  to  our  rear  and  they 
were  wont  to  shell  the  road  heavily  near  our  silent 
platoon,  but  they  never  actually  landed  a  shell  in  our 
position.  On  several  occasions  the  wooded  areas  in 
front  of  us  were  heavily  gassed  with  mustard  gas, 


122  BATTERY  A 

but  we  only  had  to  keep  our  masks  on  for  an  hour 
or  so  each  time. 

While  these  events  were  happening  with  the  fir- 
ing battery,  the  drivers  were  having  a  very  busy 
time.  On  the  night  of  July  7  the  echelon  had  moved 
up  from  Citry  to  Montreuil  where  the  regulars  had 
their  echelon, — a  trip  replete  with  halts  and  long  de- 
lays. It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  army  had  chosen  that 
one  road,  so  great  was  the  traffic  jam  all  night.  Then, 
to  add  to  the  troubles,  the  lumbering  American  cais- 
son,— or  "Chinese  caisson"  as  it  was  commonly  called, 
— went  half  over  a  bank  near  the  new  echelon,  and  so 
the  rest  of  the  time  before  daybreak  had  to  be  spent 
in  pulling  it  on  to  the  road  again. 

At  Montreuil  the  real  work  for  the  drivers  began. 
Each  night  the  caissons  would  have  to  make  trips  to 
the  Battery  position  with  ammunition.  The  ammu- 
nition dump  was  five  miles  to  the  rear  of  the  echelon, 
and  only  one  battery  could  load  shells  at  one  time. 
Consequently,  it  would  often  be  several  hours  before 
our  turn  arrived.  Now  a  night  trip  to  this  "Pas  Fini" 
Sector,  as  it  was  called,  was  far  from  pleasant.  The 
roads  were  always  crowded  with  traffic,  and  they 
were  usually  subject  to  constant  harassing  fire  from 
the  Boche.  Moreover,  the  favorite  place  for  ISO's 
was  a  very  steep  hill  leading  up  from  Montreuil, 
where  no  speed  could  possibly  be  shown,  and  it  was 
the  only  road  that  could  be  taken  to  get  to  the  Bat- 
tery. No  one  who  has  never  been  on  a  horse  under 
shell  fire  can  realize  how  absolutely  helpless  one  feels. 
There  you  are,  six  feet  from  the  ground,  with  no 
chance  of  flattening  out  when  a  shell    lands    near. 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  123 

Many  were  the  narrow  escapes  that  our  drivers  had. 
Yet  not  one  of  them  was  hit.  The  echelons  at  Mon- 
treuil  were  shelled  a  number  of  different  times  but 
A  Battery  never  lost  a  horse  or  a  man.  The  water 
cart  driver  probably  experienced  more  thrilling  mo- 
ments than  anybody.  The  water  cart  was  always 
kept  at  the  battery  position,  but  the  water  had  to  be 
hauled  from  Paris  Farms.  Paris  Farms  was  a  very 
ticklish  place.  It  stood  right  at  an  important  cross 
road  and  everyone  took  especial  care  to  avoid  it,  if 
possible.  The  water  cart  driver  would  wait  until  the 
Boche  harassment  had  let  up  for  a  short  time  and 
then  he  would  gallop  in  and  try  to  get  away  before 
another  burst  came  over.  Twice  he  got  caught  in 
concentrations  of  ISO's,  but  by  some  mysterious  luck, 
neither  he  nor  his  two  old  horses  were  touched. 

By  July  15  there  seemed  to  be  "something  in  the 
air."  Rumors  began  to  float  around  of  expected  of- 
fensives, some  having  it  that  we  were  going  to  at- 
tack, others  that  the  Boches  were.  The  drivers  were 
working  doubly  hard  hauling  ammunition.  We  had 
over  five  thousand  rounds  in  our  position.  About 
midnight  on  July  15,  a  runner  from  Battalion  Head- 
quarters rushed  over  with  a  startling  order.  "Infor- 
mation is  at  hand  that  the  enemy  will  attack  at  dawn. 
Figure  and  be  ready  to  fire  your  emergency  line  of 
resistance  barrages."  We  were  all  prepared  for  the 
worst;  the  cannoneers  worked  desperately  cleaning 
up  the  ammunition,  the  machine  gunners  stood  by 
their  guns.  The  thermite  grenades  were  got  out,  to 
destroy  the  guns  in  case  we  should  be  forced  to  re- 
treat. 


124  BATTERY  A 

Sure  enough  at  dawn  the  great  German  offensive 
broke  loose — but  it  was  smashing  against  the  lines 
along  the  banks  of  the  Marne  and  not  against  us.  All 
day  long  we  could  hear  the  tremendous  roar  of  the 
g^ns  to  the  east  of  us.  Our  front  remained  fairly- 
quiet,  except  for  the  heavy  gassing  of  a  few  wooded 
areas  near  us. 

When  the  drivers  came  up  with  ammunition  that 
evening,  they  were  full  of  rumors  about  great  prep- 
arations in  the  rear  for  an  attack  by  us.  Big  guns  of 
all  calibres  were  being  brought  in.  Everything 
pointed  to  action  very  shortly.  For  a  day  or  so  noth- 
ing out  of  the  ordinary  happened,  except  perhaps  that 
rumors  flew  around  thicker  than  before.  All  night 
long  as  usual,  we  kept  on  with  our  harassing  fire,  and 
as  usual,  nine  caissons  of  ammunition,  900  rounds,  ar- 
rived each  night. 

July  18  proved  to  be  a  never-to-be-forgotten  day. 
At  3  A.  M.  orders  were  received  from  Battalion  Head- 
quarters that  "H.  Hour"  would  be  at  4.35.  A  long 
rolling  barrage  was  rapidly  figured  out,  and  at  4.35, 
with  no  previous  preparatory  fire,  every  gun  along  the 
western  side  of  the  Chateau-Thierry  Salient  opened 
up  together.  It  was  a  remarkable  sound,  and  it  pro- 
duced a  wonderful  feeling,  to  know  that  the  allies 
were  at  last  on  the  offensive  again! 

We  fired  over  1400  round  that  morning,  first  on 
the  rolling  Barrage  and  then  on  various  machine  posts 
that  were  giving  the  Infantry  trouble.  About  noon 
we  fired  several  Barrages  over  Hill  193  back  of  Giv- 
ry.  These  were  only  to  be  fired  as  a  protection  for 
the  Infantry  when  they  had  captured  their  objectives, 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  125 

and  the  knowledge  of  that  fact  made  us  realize  that 
the  attack  had  been  successful.  Sure  enough,  orders 
soon  came  in  to  move  forward,  and  Lieutenant  Mac- 
Namee  went  ahead  to  reconnoitre.  The  limbers  were 
sent  for  from  the  echelon,  and  by  dusk  the  firing  bat- 
tery was  heading  down  the  road  into  Lucy  Le  Bocage. 

The  very  idea  of  going  down  this  road  in  broad 
daylight  with  the  guns  and  horses,  sent  a  real  thrill 
through  everyone  of  us.  Up  to  the  night  before  it 
was  considered  very  risky  for  even  one  man  alone 
to  do  it,  the  whole  route  being  in  direct  observation 
of  the  Germans  from  across  the  valley.  As  we  went 
along  we  could  look  down  upon  the  northern  battle- 
field. Town  after  town  was  buried  in  great  clouds 
of  smoke  and  flames.  Below  us  we  could  catch 
glimpses  of  Torcy  and  Belleau  through  the  trees. 
They  were  now  in  our  possession,  but  the  Germans 
were  battering  them  savagely. 

Our  new  position  was  barely  900  metres  from  the 
front  line,  on  a  fringe  of  Belleau  Woods.  A  slight 
crest  in  front  gave  us  good  defilade  from  the  enemy, 
but  even  with  that  protection  we  were  a  little  too 
close  for  comfort,  because  the  German  sound-ranging 
stations  were  wonderful  at  locating  our  guns,  and  of 
course  the  closer  one  got  the  more  chance  the  enemy 
would  have  of  spotting  him. 

We  tried  the  experiment  on  our  first  night  of  reg- 
istering our  guns  by  moonlight.  It  worked  very  well 
indeed.  We  fired  shrapnel  on  La  Gonetrie  Farm. 
Air  bursts  could  easily  be  seen,  and  we  were  thereby 
enabled  to  check  up  on  the  "laying  in"  of  our  guns. 

We  learned  a  terrible  lesson  in  this  Belleau  Wood 


126  BATTERY  A 

position; — one  that  we  never  forgot  afterwards.  By 
the  time  we  had  our  guns  "laid  in",  trail  pits  dug,  and 
ammunition  sorted  out,  it  was  well  towards  midnight. 
As  everybody  was  pretty  well  tired  out,  all  the  can- 
noneers with  the  exception  of  the  gun  guards,  went 
off  to  sleep,  the  digging  of  protective  trenches  being 
put  off  till  the  next  morning.  About  6  A.  M.  the  Ger- 
mans opened  up  a  savage  bombardment  of  77's  which 
literally  swamped  the  area  around  us.  The  second 
section's  ammunition  pile  was  struck.  Shells  were 
blowing  up  in  all  directions.  No  one  could  stay  there 
and  live.  Everybody  made  for  some  trenches  about 
100  metres  away.  But  the  damage  had  been  done. 
Phil  Cunningham  and  Laurence  Williams  were  in- 
stantly killed;  Seth  Eldridge  was  mortally  wounded 
and  Jack  Dunn,  George  Tyler,  Ed.  Martin  and  Parker, 
the  medical  man,  were  all  seriously  wounded.  From 
then  on,  it  made  no  difference  what  time  of  night  we 
established  our  position,  we  never  stopped  to  lie  down 
until  good,  deep,  shelter  trenches  had  been  dug  first ! 

In  addition  to  our  casualties,  the  first  section  gun, 
old  "Lil,"  was  found  to  be  too  badly  damaged  to  use 
any  more.  We  hated  to  turn  it  in,  as  it  was  a  won- 
derful piece  and  had  always  worked  like  a  charm, 
but, — c'est  la  guerre. 

During  July  19  no  further  advance  was  made  by 
our  Division.  We  had  to  wait  for  the  forces  farther 
north  to  advance  before  we  attempted  to  push  in  the 
pocket  opposite  us.  We,  however,  harassed  the  Ger- 
man lines  continually,  to  prevent  as  far  as  possible 
their  bringing  up  reserves  and  supplies.  We  shelled 
all  the  roads  around  Etrepilly,  the  wooded  areas  back 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  127 

of  Givry  and  the  Petit  Bois  in  Belleau  Ravine,  where 
machine  guns  and  one  pounders  were  bothering  our 
Infantry  considerably. 

On  July  20  the  attack  was  renewed.  At  14.50,  af- 
ter a  previous  preparation  of  two  hours  and  a  half, 
we  started  firing  a  long  rolling  barrage  towards  Etre- 
pilly.  The  Infantry  met  savage  machine  gun  oppo- 
sition. From  the  slopes  above  the  Petits  Bois  the 
enemy  raked  our  advancing  troops.  The  crest  beyond 
our  position  gave  us  a  wonderful  view  of  the  whole 
fight.  The  German  machine  gunners  had  got  through 
our  rolling  barrage  and  they — hundreds  of  them — 
were  advancing  across  a  large  wheat  field  to  stop  our 
"doughboys".  Their  commander  was  carrying  a 
cane,  and  seemingly  perfectly  oblivious  to  the  sur- 
rounding crash  of  the  shells,  was  directing  his  men 
to  establish  their  guns  along  the  shell  holes.  We 
promptly  stopped  firing  our  rolling  barrage  and 
opened  up  on  these  machine  gunners  with  shrapnel 
and  shell.  The  shell  with  black  fuse  was  especially 
eflfective  as  it  richocheted  oflF  the  ground  and  burst 
with  terriffic  eflFect  in  the  air  above.  We  plainly  ob- 
served six  or  seven  direct  hits  on  the  machine  gun 
nests  before  our  ammunition  gave  out.  .  .  . 

Our  drivers  had  been  working  night  and  day  haul- 
ing ammunition,  but  the  terriflfic  firing  of  the  last  few 
days — on  an  average  of  1000  rounds  a  day — ^had  got 
ahead  of  the  supply  on  hand.  We  sent  back  for  them 
to  rush  up  more.  They  did.  They  galloped  the  nine 
caissons  over  a  road  in  plain  view  of  the  enemy,  with 
shells   bursting  on   all    sides   of   them.     They   got 


128  BATTERY  A 

through,  though  they  were  too  late  to  help  us  against 
the  machine  gunners. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak,  a  Division  Staff 
car  was  seen  coming  into  Lucy  LeBocage.  Some- 
thing big  must  have  happened!  We  investigated. 
Sure  enough,  Division  Headquarters  was  actually  in 
the  town!  The  enemy  had  retreated  over  night  and 
our  Infantry  was  rapidly  pursuing  him.  Battalion 
Headquarters  had  already  sent  for  our  drivers  to  come 
up.  They  soon  arrived.  The  guns  were  limbered  up, 
the  camouflage  nets,  picks,  shovels,  axes,  and  special 
detail  equipment  were  packed  on,  and  once  again  we 
were  moving  forward,  this  time  down  through  Bel- 
leau  Woods,  through  Torcy  and  Belleau,  and  up 
towards  Etrepilly. 

We  hardly  knew  what  to  expect  in  the  way  of  sur- 
prise attacks  from  the  enemy.  We  were  on  the  look- 
out for  anything.  Most  of  our  cannoneers  armed 
themselves  with  rifles  which  they  had  picked  up. 
They  marched  at  the  head  of  the  column,  ready  to 
meet  any  counter  attack  that  might  develop. 

The  roads,  poor  as  they  were,  were  crowded  with 
every  description  of  military  vehicle.  The  machine 
gunners,  with  their  mule  carts,  convoys  of  French 
pack  mules,  supply  wagons,  ration  carts,  water  carts, 
rolling  kitchens,  French  and  American  artillery  and 
infantry  were  all  moving  in  a  jumbled  mass  towards 
the  enemy. 

It  is  hard  to  describe  our  feelings  as  we  passed 
over  the  ground  we  had  been  shelling  the  day  before. 
Here  was  Torcy,  one  of  our  favorite  targets.  Here 
were  the  Petits  Bois,  which  had  been  so  infested  with 


^Bb 

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r-^!&,<r'^' 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  129 

machine  guns.  Here  was  the  Etrepilly  Road  which 
we  had  often  harassed.  Our  pride  rose  when  we 
saw  the  effects  of  our  work.  Desolation  and  destruc- 
tion reigned  supreme:  Torcy  and  Belleau  were  in 
ruins ;  the  wooded  areas  were  ploughed  up  with  shell 
holes;  dead  Germans  and  dead  horses  were  very 
numerous. 

After  a  hard  pull  up  the  German  side  of  the  valley, 
we  halted  near  Etrepilly  while  the  battery  command- 
ers went  ahead  to  reconnoitre  the  ground.  The  Ger- 
man observation  balloons,  which  had  been  drawn 
back  when  the  advance  first  started,  began  to  pop  up 
ahead.  Their  presence  warned  us  that  the  enemy 
was  making  a  stand  not  so  very  far  away.  There  was 
much  uncertainty  as  to  where  the  outposts  of  our 
Infantry  were.  The  Bethune-Chateau  Thierry  High- 
way, about  three  kilometers  east  of  Etrepilly,  seemed 
to  mark  our  front  lines,  judging  by  the  shelling  it  was 
receiving  from  the  enemy  88's,  although  it  was  re- 
ported by  an  Infantry  runner  that  the  Germans  were 
making  a  stand  one  kilometer  farther  east  on  the  high 
ground  above  Epieds. 

Our  position  was  picked  out  in  a  clump  of  bushes 
near  St.  Robert  Farm,  about  1000  meters  southwest  of 
the  Bethune-Chateau  Thierry  Highway.  It  evidently 
had  been  used  by  the  Germans  as  a  balloon  base.  Nu- 
merous deep  trenches  and  open  dugouts  afforded  good 
protection  for  our  men.  There  our  souvenir  hunters 
got  their  first  chance  to  pick  up  trophies.  German 
helmets,  machine  gun  pouches,  shoes  of  all  kinds, 
rifles  and  mess  kits  could  be  gathered  up  almost  any- 
where. 


130  BATTERY  A 

Now  that  we  were  really  on  the  move,  our  echelon 
was  split  into  a  forward  echelon,  containing  the  nine 
caissons,  four  limbers,  ration  cart  and  water  cart, 
and  their  horses  and  drivers,  and  a  rear  echelon,  con- 
sisting of  the  two  park  wagons,  battery  and  forge 
wagons,  and  the  fourgon. 

The  latter  did  not  keep  up  with  the  Battery.  It 
acted  as  a  supply  depot,  receiving  forage  and  provis- 
ions from  the  Supply  Company,  and  sending  them 
forward  each  day  to  the  firing  battery.  The  same  day 
that  the  firing  battery  moved  to  St.  Robert  Farm,  the 
rear  echelon  moved  forward  from  Montreuil  to  the 
Grand  Rue  Farm,  taking  the  route  via  Monthiers  and 
Etrepilly. 

The  drivers,  all  in  all,  were  "fighting  a  hard  war." 
It  was  bad  enough  to  haul  ammunition  day  and  night 
with  no  sleep,  but  the  climax  came  when  the  orders 
to  advance  arrived.  The  orders  came  in  when  they 
were  up  at  the  front.  Consequently,  they  had  no 
chance  to  go  back  to  their  echelon  to  get  their  eflFects, 
and  a  crowd  of  Italian  road  laborers  promptly  "sal- 
vaged" everything  they  could  find, — they  found  ev- 
erything! Yet,  the  drivers  were  not  really  seriously 
bothered.  They  always  had  their  horse  blankets  to 
sleep  in,  while  equipment  and  clothing  galore  could 
be  picked  up  on  all  sides.  Their  biggest  worries  did 
not  center  on  personal  equipment  or  clothing — those 
were  minor  points — the  big  questions  were  sleep, 
their  horses,  and  where  to  find  ammunition.  The 
latter  was  especially  vexing.  The  ammunition  dumps 
were  naturally  constantly  changing,  as  the  troops 
moved  forward  and  their  supply  of  shells  was  very 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  131 

variable.  Nothing  was  more  aggravating  than  to  be 
sent  after  ammunition  at  midnight — over  roads  you 
were  not  acquainted  with — and  then  to  find  the  dump 
empty,  or  else  that  it  had  moved  ten  kilometers  away 
an  hour  before.  It  was  bad  enough  finding  what  you 
were  looking  for  in  the  daytime,  in  an  unfamiliar 
country,  but  at  night,  with  no  lights,  with  no  knowl- 
edge of  the  roads,  and  with  only  the  vaguest  direc- 
tions, it  was  a  real  task! 

At  St.  Robert  Farm,  our  firing  assumed  large 
proportions.  The  Boches  were  making  a  desperate 
stand  in  Epieds,  Trugny,  and  the  ridges  beyond. 
Epieds  changed  hands  several  times ;  but  it  proved  to 
be  too  "hot"  for  our  Infantry  to  hold  with  enemy  ma- 
chine guns  sweeping  it  from  every  side.  During  the 
night  of  July  22  we  fired  our  Epieds  Defensive  Bar- 
rage three  times,  a  fact  which  seemed  to  indicate  that 
we  were  holding  the  town,  but  at  4.15  the  next  morn- 
ing we  fired  600  rounds  into  the  town  itself. 

The  evening  of  July  22  proved  to  be  quite  exciting. 
Major  Richardson  had  received  very  vague  orders  to 
advance  with  the  Infantry.  He  formed  the  Battal- 
ion and  we  all  moved  out  towards  the  Bethune-Chat- 
eau  Thierry  Road.  But  the  vicious  shelling  ahead 
looked  ominous.  Our  Infantry  obviously  was  not  ad- 
vancing very  fast.  To  go  ahead  along  that  road  would 
have  been  fatal;  we  turned  up  through  the  little  ham- 
let of  Chante-Merle.  We  halted  along  a  sunken  road 
while  desperate  efforts  were  made  to  reestablish  lia- 
son  with  the  Infantry  and  to  find  out  what  really  was 
happening.  In  the  meantime  shells  began  to  break 
all  around  us.    Never  had  we  felt  more  helpless  than 


132  BATTERY  A 

that  night  while  we  waited  there  for  over  an  hour. 
The  drivers  stood  by  their  horses*  heads.  The  can- 
noneers— ^just  waited,  as  shell  after  shell  "zinged" 
by  and  burst  barely  ten  yards  beyond.  The  sunken 
road  saved  us.  That  and  nothing  else  prevented 
heavy  casualties.  Information  now  arrived  that  the 
Boche  had  counter-attacked  and  our  Infantry  were 
retreating — not  advancing.  We  therefore  quickly 
pulled  back  to  our  former  position  and  again  "lay" 
on  our  old  barrages. 

On  July  23  the  situation  did  not  change.  Our 
guns  combed  the  wooded  slopes  beyond  Epieds,  while 
our  drivers  brought  in  caisson  after  caisson  of  ammu- 
nition from  the  dump  near  La  Saccerie  Farm.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  a  report  that  enemy  tanks  were  op- 
erating near  La  Gouttiere  Farm  between  Bezu-St. 
Germain  and  Epieds,  brought  out  a  heavy  concen- 
tration of  artillery  but  nothing  serious  developed. 

At  length,  on  July  24,  the  Infantry  finally  managed 
to  dislodge  the  enemy  and  drive  him  back.  We 
started  forward  along  the  Bethune-Chateau  Thierry 
Highway  and  then  we  swung  to  the  northeast 
through  Bezu,  St.  German  and  Epieds.  Dead  Amer- 
icans and  Germans  on  every  side  gave  evidence  of  the 
savageness  of  the  fighting  that  had  preceded  us.  Our 
headway  was  very  slow,  as  traflSc  was  badly  tied  up 
in  Epieds.  Four  roads  met  in  this  town,  and  no  less 
than  three  regiments  of  Infantry  and  three  regiments 
of  Artillery  were  trying  to  get  through  at  the  same 
time,  from  different  directions.  It  would  have  been  a 
wonderful  opportunity  for  the  enemy's  artillery,  but 
luckily  our  aeroplanes  were  supreme  and  no  Boche 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  133 

got  a  chance  to  see  what  was  happening.  Then  again, 
the  enemy  was  so  busy  trying  to  pull  back  his  own 
guns  that  he  had  little  chance  to  harass  us. 

The  jam  finally  became  so  serious  that  General 
Edwards,  General  Aultman  and  General  Lassiter 
were  all  in  the  square  together  trying  to  straighten 
out  the  tangle.  Finally  we  got  through,  to  take  up  a 
position  between  Courpoil  and  Epieds  near  some  fine 
old  German  dugouts.  Unfortunately  the  111th  In- 
fantry of  the  28th  Division  who  had  come  in  to  help 
relieve  our  Infantry,  were  camped  in  the  same  wood. 
It  was  their  first  trip  to  the  front.  They  evidently 
did  not  realize  the  danger  of  smoke,  for  it  seemed  as 
if  every  other  man  had  started  a  fire  to  cook  some 
food  for  himself.  Great  clouds  of  smoke  arose.  We 
expected  to  be  shelled  at  any  time. 

In  the  meantime  our  Infantry  had  pushed  on  to 
the  Forest  of  Fere  when  they  again  met  stiff  oppo- 
sition near  the  Croix-Rouge  Farm.  They  were  com- 
pletely exhausted  by  their  terrific  night  and  day  work 
of  the  past  few  days,  and  were  fighting  on  their 
nerve  alone.  The  111th  and  112th  infantry  of  the 
28th  Division  relieved  them  for  a  brief  period,  but 
they  in  turn  were  soon  relieved  by  the  42nd  Division. 
The  Artillery  and  Engineers  kept  on.  They  were  des- 
tined to  support  four  divisions:  the  26th,  28th,  42nd 
and  4th. 

This  Epieds  position  was  a  busy  one  during  the 
two  days  that  we  were  here.  We  combed  the  woods 
beyond  the  Croix  Rouge  Farm  again  and  again.  We 
fired  several  long  rolling  barrages  through  them,  but 
nevertheless  the  Infantry  was  making   little    head- 


134  BATTERY  A 

way.  The  111th  tried  to  get  through  but  was  al- 
most wiped  out  in  so  doing.  We  outfitted  most  of 
our  Battery  from  the  equipment  they  left  behind.  The 
German  aeroplanes  were  beginning  to  get  increas- 
ingly active.  During  the  first  few  days  of  the  drive, 
thirty  or  forty  Allied  planes  would  be  in  the  air  at  one 
time,  while  no  Germans  would  be  seen.  Now  the 
tables  were  slowly  beginning  to  turn.  Richtofen's 
"flying  circus"  made  its  appearance.  Eight  or  ten 
German  planes  would  come  over  the  lines  at  once 
looping  the  loop  and  diving  straight  down  at  our 
troops,  machine  gunning  all  the  while.  Each  day 
they  grew  bolder  and  bolder  until  they  soon  had. 
driven  the  Allied  planes  oflf  the  lines  completely.  Our 
anti-aircraft  guns  never  worried  them  at  all.  The 
observation  balloons  on  both  sides  were  having  a  bad 
time  of  it  as  each  side  was  continually  going  over 
after  its  opponent's  balloons.  One  German  plane 
came  over  one  afternoon  and  got  no  less  than  three 
Allied  balloons  in  one  swoop. 

On  July  27,  the  enemy  was  once  again  dislodged 
and  driven  back.  During  the  evening  we  pushed  for- 
ward through  Courpoil,  through  Beuvardes,  and 
then  swung  to  the  right  towards  the  Croix-Blanche 
and  Croix-Rouge  Farms.  As  yet  the  extent  of  our 
advance  was  not  definitely  known.  We  waited  most 
of  the  night  on  the  road,  trying  to  get  information  as 
to  where  the  front  lines  were.  About  midnight  a 
troop  of  French  Cavalry  passed  us  coming  back  from 
the  attack.  They  reported  that  the  enemy  was  fall- 
ing back  across  the  River  Ourcq  but  that  he  was  fight- 
ing every  inch  of  the  way.    They  themselves  had  been 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  135 

cut  to  pieces, — a  fact  which  the  large  number  of  rider- 
less horses  only  too  plainly  showed. 

About  one  A.  M.  we  moved  forward  again  and 
took  up  a  position  along  a  hedge  near  the  Croix-Rouge 
Farm.  We  dug  in  till  daylight,  when  we  camou- 
flaged our  guns  and  tried  to  get  some  sleep.  The  for- 
ward echelon  and  the  kitchen  established  themselves 
in  the  woods  close  by.  These  were  the  very  woods 
which  we  had  shelled  so  much  the  day  before.  The 
bitterest  of  fighting  had  taken  place  all  through  the 
area.  Dead  Americans  and  Germans  were  lying 
around  on  every  side. 

The  enemy  was  evidently  making  a  real  stand  in 
front  of  us.  His  artillery  began  to  be  very  active ;  the 
morale  breaking  88's  were  continually  harassing  the 
roads  and  the  front  edge  of  our  woods.  Our  drivers 
in  watering  their  horses  at  the  Croix  Rouge  Farm  had 
several  very  close  encounters  with  these  88's.  A  77 
is  well  called  the  "WZZZZ  BANG".  The  88,  on  the 
other  hand  is  the  reverse.  The  BANG  comes  first, 
followed  by  the  blood-curdling  WZZZZZRRR.  The 
shell  travels  faster  than  the  sound. 

In  spite  of  the  fighting  ahead,  we  advanced  again 
during  the  night  of  July  28.  The  roads  were  badiy 
blocked.  Trucks,  caissons,  guns,  supply  wagons  of 
every  description  were  struggling  to  get  through, 
without  a  light  of  any  kind  to  break  the  darkness. 
After  many  long  delays,  we  pulled  up  over  the  plateau 
beyond  Beuvardes,  passed  Preaux  Farm,  and  laid  in 
our  guns  in  a  hummocky  open  field  near  Esperance 
Farm.  We  stretched  our  camouflage  nets  in  an  ir- 
regular line  among  the  hollows  in  the  ground  and 


136  BATTERY  A 

wasted  no  time  in  "diggfing  in."  Esperance  Farm  is 
a  name  that  will  never  be  forgotten  by  any  man  in  the 
Battery  who  was  there.  It  marked  the  climax  of  the 
whole  drive.  Beyond  it  lay  the  deep  valley  of  the 
Ourcq  with  the  plateaus  on  both  sides  sloping  down 
very  gradually  into  it.  Nesles,  and  its  famous  old 
chateau  cuddled  against  the  woods  on  the  further 
crest.  The  city  of  Fere-en-Tardenois  stood  out  boldly, 
more  to  the  left.  Sergy,  Seringes,  and  Ville-Sur-Fere 
nestled  among  the  trees  along  the  river  bank. 

The  Boches  were  assembled  in  great  strength 
along  the  northern  bank  of  the  river,  and  on  the 
heights  above.  Their  artillery  was  most  aggressive, 
pounding  our  advanced  lines  continually,  and  forever 
harassing  every  bit  of  woods  where  they  suspected  a 
battery  might  be  concealed. 

Around  us  the  area  was  alive  with  troops.  Guns, 
in  many  places,  were  almost  hub  to  hub.  The  ar- 
tillery of  the  26th  and  42nd  divisions  were  packed  in 
side  by  side.  It  was  indeed  lucky  for  us  that  we  had 
our  positions  in  an  open  field.  Boche  ISO's  were  burst- 
ing all  around  us  day  and  night,  but  not  once  did 
they  find  us.  Their  aeroplanes  darted  over  the 
lines  close  to  the  ground  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  ma- 
chine gxmning  everything  in  sight.  Once,  an  aero- 
plane spotted  one  of  our  caissons  unloading  am"hiuni- 
tion.  Seven  planes  in  a  row  dove  at  it,  firing  in  short 
bursts,  but  luckily  no  damage  was  done.  How  we 
prayed  for  our  planes  to  do  something!  But  the 
enemy  was  master  of  the  air!  No  Allied  plane  dared 
to  show  itself.  Frequently  seventy-five  or  eighty 
Boche  planes  would  come  over  at  once,  in  great  squad- 


ONE   OF   THE    GUNS    IN    THE    BELLEAU    WOODS    CAMOUFLAGED    TO    PREVENT    DETECTION 
BY    THE    BOCHE 


THIRD     PIECE    IN     POSITION     NEAR    THE     PARISMETZ    ROAD     IN    THE    AISNEMARNE 
OFFENSIVE 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  137 

rons  of  20  or  25  each.  Our  anti-aircraft  guns  would 
fill  the  air  with  their  bursts  while  our  machine  gun- 
ners tried  in  vain  to  worry  the  daredevil  enemy. 

Our  own  firing  in  this  position  was  the  most  in- 
tense we  had  ever  done.  On  July  29  we  fired  1273 
rounds,  on  the  30th,  2050  rounds,  on  the  31st,  1050 
rounds,  and  on  Aug.  1,  1300  rounds.  The  special  mis- 
sion of  our  Regiment  was  to  support  the  167th  Infan- 
try in  its  advance.  It  was  having  a  hard  time  cross- 
ing the  Ourcq,  for  the  pick  of  the  Prussian  guards 
opposed  it.  In  Sergy,  the  most  desperate  hand  to 
hand  fighting  took  place.  First  one  side  would  cap- 
ture the  town  and  then  the  other.  The  wheat  fields 
above  it  were  alive  with  machine  gun  nests.  From 
every  angle  they  swept  our  lines  with  a  murderous 
fire.  We  combed  these  fields  again  and  again  with 
our  75's.  We  concentrated  on  Sergy,  on  Nesles,  and 
on  the  woods  beyond.  We  fired  numerous  rolling 
barrages  for  our  troops  to  advance  under.  Every 
hedge,  every  bush,  housed  a  machine  gun  which  had 
to  be  dislodged.  There  was  a  proud  moment  for  us 
on  July  30.  The  Infantry  advance  was  held  up  by  a 
machine  gun  nest  in  front  of  it,  and  their  liason  officer 
telephoned  back  to  his  Colonel.  He  gave  us  its  co- 
ordinates and  told  us  to  destroy  it.  The  third  piece 
fired  two  shots: — the  second  shot  was  a  direct  hit! 

Most  of  the  cannoneers  were  now  practically  deaf 
from  the  effects  of  the  firing.  The  telephone  was  of 
no  use  in  calling  up  the  guns  as  nobody  could  hear  it. 
It  was  now  fourteen  days  since  the  drive  started. 
Everybody  was  tired  before  it  began,  but  now  after 
this  long  period  of  no  sleep  and  continuous  twenty- 


138  BATTERY  A 

four  hours  a  day  work,  spirit  and  nerve  alone  were 
all  that  was  carrying  the  men  forward. 

The  drivers  were  having-  almost  as  bad  a  time, 
always  on  the  move,  and  hauling  ammunition  or  sup- 
plies night  and  day.  The  horses  were  wonderful. 
Often  their  harness  would  be  on  for  several  days  at  a 
time.  Their  meals  were  uncertain  and  irregular,  yet 
they  almost  seemed  to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  men  I 
Nothing  was  too  hard  for  them!  The  forward  eche- 
lon was  in  the  woods  near  Preaux  Farm.  Here  was 
the  kitchen  also.  All  food  for  the  firing  battery  had 
to  be  brought  up  from  here,  since  any  smoke  at  the 
battery  itself  would  give  away  the  position. 

Up  to  this  time  the  drivers  had  been  very  lucky. 
Joe  Zwinge,  who  had  been  killed  in  April,  was  their 
only  casualty.  They  had  not  really  been  shaken  by 
the  death  of  their  intimate  friends  as  had  the  can- 
noneers. On  July  29,  the  blow  fell  when  a  150 
exploded  among  them.  Raymond  Rowland,  Charley 
Ellis  and  Ed  Hooper  were  instantly  killed. 

The  rear  echelon,  in  the  meantime,  had  been  mov- 
ing forward  by  slower  jumps.  On  July  25,  it  moved 
up  to  Epieds  where  it  stayed  for  several  days.  Then 
it  moved  to  Beuvardes.  Here  some  fine  new  French 
horses  were  received  which  solved  the  problem  of 
hauling  the  park-wagons. 

On  August  2  the  Germans  were  dislodged  from 
their  strong  positions  and  were  thrown  back  towards 
the  Vesle  River.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we  moved 
down  towards  the  Ourcq  and  crossed  it  near  Sergy. 
We  expected  to  find  a  good  sized  river,  but  in  reality 
it  more  closely  resembled  a  small  brook.    We  estab- 


CHATEAU-THIERRY  139 

lished  our  position  not  far*  from  its  banks,  in  that  fa- 
mous wheat  field  near  Sergy.  Hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  dead  were  lying  around  us  in  every  direction.  Ma- 
chine guns,  rifles,  and  equipment  of  every  description 
covered  the  ground.  The  reserve  rations  of  the  dead 
helped  us  tide  over  an  otherwise  foodless  day,  as  our 
ration  cart  never  caught  up  to  us  from  the  rear. 

The  enemy,  however,  had  got  beyond  gun  range. 
We  did  not  fire  a  round  but  pushed  along  the  next 
day.  As  usual  the  roads  were  in  bad  shape.  The  4th 
Division  was  coming  in  to  relieve  the  42nd,  while  the 
artillery  of  both  the  42nd  and  26th  were  on  the 
move  at  the  same  time.  Moreover,  the  roads  were  in 
a  badly  torn  up  condition,  the  effects  of  our  own  fir- 
ing. Inwardly,  we  swelled  with  pride  at  our  accuracy, 
but  outwardly  we  swore  at  it  for  causing  us  so 
much  trouble  now.  We  passed  through  Nesles  and 
then  struggled  along  toward  the  Bon  Homme  Farm. 
The  pulling  was  very  hard  indeed.  We  had  only  four 
horses  on  each  gun  and  caisson,  and  their  food  al- 
lowance was  so  small  that  day — our  fourgon  having 
been  stuck  in  a  mud  hole — that  they  were  really 
working  on  empty  stomachs. 

In  the  late  afternoon  of  August  3  after  our  longest 
advance  of  the  drive,  we  placed  our  giins  near  a  little 
town  called  La  Tuilerie,  about  five  or  six  kilometres 
south  of  Fismes.  We  were  relieved  the  next  day.  We 
had  gone  through  the  whole  drive — eighteen  days  and 
nights  of  continuous  action.  We  had  supported  four 
divisions  and  we  had  fired  17,790  rounds  against  the 
Germans.  The  men  were  dead  tired,  deaf,  and  work- 
ing on  nerve  alone,  but  the  spirit  was  still  there;  no 


140  BATTERY  A 

one  grumbled.  They  would  have  gone  on  willingly, 
if  ordered.  Rumors  about  relief  had  drifted  around 
so  often  that  we  hardly  believed  it  now  that  it  came 
true. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  REAL  REST 

"^[EWS  of  the  long  hoped  for  relief  came  unexpect- 
edly  late  in  the  afternoon  of  August  4.  Mem- 
bers of  the  Battery  were  seen  embracing  each  other 
in  transports  of  joy  at  the  idea  of  getting  a  night's 
sleep.  Soon  after  supper  the  Battery  was  packed, 
harnessed  and  hitched,  with  its  back  turned  to  the  line 
of  burning  villages  beyond  the  Vesle,  impatiently 
awaiting  the  word  to  move.  This  was  a  trying  time, 
because  now  that  we  were  relieved,  our  lives  had 
taken  on  a  new  value,  and  Boche  77's  kept  dropping 
in  the  fields  not  far  away.  We  waited  there  without 
moving  until  2.30  A.  M.  Meanwhile,  a  fine  rain  had 
set  in,  chilling  men  and  horses.  Once  on  our  way  we 
felt  more  secure,  as  every  turn  in  the  wheels  brought 
us  nearer  safety.  Even  then  we  were  treated  to  a 
peculiar  surprise.  We  had  traveled  several  kilo- 
meters and  felt  sure  we  were  out  of  range,  but  our 
road  must  have  led  parallel  to  the  front,  for  during  a 
halt  near  a  crossroad,  several  77's  whizzed  towards 
us  and  crashed  in  the  meadow  on  our  right.  It  sent 
a  nervous  chill  down  our  backs  (along  with  the  rain 
which  by  now  had  penetrated  the  newest  slickers.) 
If  some  person, — shaved,  brushed  and  white 
spatted,  his  opinions  of  war  based  on  the  smug  re- 
cruiting sergeants  of  Boston  Common — could  have 
been  suddenly  lifted  from  Tremont  Street  and  set 
daintily  down  in  the  main  street  of  Fere-en-Tarde- 
nois  on  that  morning,  he  would  have  wept  as  our  Bat- 


142  BATTERY  A 

tery  passed.  Plain  description  is  beggared  by  the 
spectacle  we  presented.  Take  a  man  a  few  thousand 
miles  from  home ;  throw  away  his  razor,  toothbrush, 
and  everything  he  owns  except  the  uniform,  shoes, 
slicker,  and  wet  blanket;  roll  him  freely  in  fresh  mud, 
not  neglecting  face  and  neck ;  tear  his  slicker  in  strips 
starting  at  the  collar ;  rub  out  the  seat  of  his  breeches, 
and  any  other  suitable  places  such  as  elbows,  knees, 
etc.  Shout  in  his  ear  for  eighteen  days  and  nights, 
starving  him  as  much  as  possible,  and  threatening  his 
life  at  frequent  intervals;  finally,  bounce  him,  stamp 
on  his  feet,  hold  him  under  an  ice-water  tank  with  a 
2-inch  hole  in  the  bottom;  multiply  him  by  170,  in- 
vest him  with  100  "have-been"  horses  dragging  car- 
riages which  have  also  been  submitted  to  a  parallel 
treatment  and  have  been  hung  all  over  with  German 
guns,  helmets,  gas-masks,  bayonets,  junk  of  every 
kind — and  that  is  our  Battery  as  we  rumbled  through 
Fere-en-Tardenois  in  the  rain. 

Everyone  was  numb  with  cold  when  we  got  to  the 
outskirts  of  Beuvardes  at  3  A.  M.  We  rubbed  and 
fed  the  horses,  parked  the  carriages  under  trees,  and 
individually  rigged  up  such  shelter  tents  as  we  could 
in  the  rain,  where  we  reclined  on  the  "damp  ground" 
(it  gets  monotonous  to  say  mud  so  often.)  At  noon 
there  was  something  in  the  way  of  mess.  At  5  P.  M. 
we  were  pursuing  our  way,  the  rain,  of  course,  com- 
ing right  along  with  us. 

All  that  night  the  Battery  jolted  and  strained  and 
lurched  along  finally  passing  through  Chateau- 
Thierry's  rubbish-bestrewn  streets,  and  reaching  its 
suburb,  Essomes,  at  about  5  o'clock  on  the  morning 


A  REAL  REST  143 

of  August  6.  Here  the  Battery  was  established  in 
houses  overlooking  a  spacious  courtyard.  By  candle- 
light we  could  see  that  the  houses  were  in  the  greatest 
confusion ;  furniture  overturned,  bed  linen  and  clothes 
dragged  across  the  floor,  and  windows  smashed;  but 
it  was  not  until  the  sun  rose  and  presided  over  a  good 
breakfast  in  the  courtyard,  that  we  really  had  time 
to  explore. 

Except  for  isolated  chateaux,  these  were  the  first 
luxurious  city  houses  we  had  seen  after  the  passage 
of  the  Hun.  Besides  the  crushing  destruction  of  ar- 
tillery fire,  these  houses  had  been  systematically 
ruined  with  a  petty  spitefulness  and  meaness  of  spirit 
which  showed  in  children's  dolls  and  playthings  de- 
liberately broken  or  ground  under  muddy  heels,  bil- 
liard tables  with  the  slates  cracked,  silk  curtains 
dragged  down  and  polluted,  and  ladies'  writing  desks 
hacked  open  and  private  papers  scattered  over  the 
floor.  We  became  so  inflamed  at  the  wantonness  and 
bestiality  and  black  cowardice  of  this  dastard  race, 
that  we  wanted  to  turn  around  and  go  back  again 
to  his  line  of  smoking  villages ! 

The  Battery  spent  a  comfortable  night  in  Essomes 
and  got  up  refreshed  on  the  morning  of  August  7. 
After  breakfast  we  set  off  in  Regimental  column 
down  the  beautiful  Marne  valley.  The  luxury  of 
traveling  by  daylight  with  full  stomachs  and  dry 
clothes  was  almost  overpowering.  Under  the  warm 
sun  we  wound  along  through  Aulnois,  Azy,  Bouneil, 
Chery,  Charly,  Nanteuil,  and  arrived  about  3  in  the 
afternoon  at  Mery-sur-Marne,  where  we  were  to  stay 
for  a  full  week. 


144  BATTERY  A 

Mery  was  inhabited,  but  for  days  the  people  had 
been  packed  up,  fearfully  waiting  for  the  word  of 
alarm.  For  the  most  part  our  men  lived  in  hay  lofts 
and  hired  rooms,  but  a  few  of  the  drivers  preferred 
to  enjoy  the  perfect  weather  in  pup-tents  near  the 
horse-lines  overlooking  the  Marne.  We  were  able  to 
buy  chocolate,  cheese,  fruit,  biscuits,  and  wine  across 
the  river  at  Saacy.  The  days  were  spent  grooming 
the  horses,  swimming  in  the  river,  writing  letters, 
or  playing  ball.  In  the  evenings,  the  Regimental  band 
would  give  a  concert  in  the  village  square  to  the  de- 
light of  the  villagers.  The  men  of  the  Regiment 
openly  expressed  no  liking  for  the  concerts,  but  they 
always  seemed  to  be  drawn  to  the  square  at  the  first 
notes  of  a  catchy  dance  tune  or  a  swinging  march. 
The  effect  of  music  on  the  morale  of  troops  has  long 
been  appreciated. 

During  our  stay  at  Mery,  many  of  us  had  a  chance 
for  the  first  time  to  think  quietly,  and  in  a  way  for- 
mulate the  strange  new  thoughts  which  had  been 
seething  in  our  tired  brains.  The  Chateau-Thierry 
Drive,  The  Great  July  Offensive, — those  names  and 
others  still  more  high-sounding  were  perhaps  printed 
in  huge  type  across  the  front  page  of  newspapers  at 
home,  and  the  funny  part  of  it  was  that  it  referred 
to  us  and  what  we  had  been  doing  for  the  past  eight- 
een days — Last  Tuesday, — when  it  rained  so  hard, 
— or  Friday  night  (when  Fred's  horse  fell  down  and 
broke  the  pole,  you  know,) — it  was  really  History, 
the  turning  point  of  the  most  stupendous  war  the 
world  has  ever  known — and  here  we  were  kicking  at 
beans  five  times  in  a  row !    What  should  our  attitude 


A  REAL  REST  145 

be  towards  the  war  ?  What  sort  of  stuff  were  we  ex- 
pected to  write  in  our  letters  home?  Had  we,  as  a 
class,  any  thoughts  at  all,  or  were  we  really  living 
from  meal  to  meal  like  animals?  What  had  this 
great  effort  taught  us  anyway? 

The  answers  were  different ;  but  one  thing  seemed 
plain.  We  had  all  found  an  implacable  dislike,  or 
prejudice  perhaps,  for  the  Germans.  Not  a  reasonable 
abhorance  of  the  military  caste,  or  a  logical  distrust 
of  the  government,  or  disgust  at  the  national  ideal. — 
but  an  unreasoning,  instinctive  hatred  of  everything 
Boche.  Also  we  had  revised  our  idea  of  an  offensive, 
and  decided  that,  with  all  its  disadvantages  it  had  its 
good  points,  an  admission  never  found  in  the  best- 
seller versions  of  warfare.  In  a  quiet  sector,  life  is 
fairly  comfortable,  with  deep  dugouts,  trenches,  and 
all  that, — but  you  get  stale.  There  is  a  nervous 
strain  and  various  other  unpleasantnesses,  yet  no  re- 
sults are  ever  apparent.  You  simply  get  stale.  It 
begins  to  look  like  an  endless  job. — But  in  a  drive  it's 
different!  You  can  see  the  results  of  your  work. 
When  you  go  into  action  over  dead  Boche  horses 
which  are  still  warm,  you  realize  that  you  are  advanc- 
ing. You  are  doing  what  you  enlisted  to  do,  and 
doing  it  hard.  There  is  a  chance  for  the  enthusiasm 
and  dash  of  other  wars — so  hopelessly  lost  in  the 
deadlock  of  trench  warfare.  The  roads  teeming  with 
armed  men,  columns  of  artillery  stretching  for  miles, 
fields  alive  with  troops  infected  with  the  spirit  of  the 
advance,  prisoners  streaming  back,  great  panoramas 
of  open  country,  changing  scenes,  excitements,  quick 
alarms;  all  these  jumbled  together  produce  a  state 


146  BATTERY  A 

of  mind  as  old  as  mankind, — the  lust  of  battle— and 
carry  men  through  hardships  which  under  different 
conditions  they  could  never  stand. 

During  the  week  we  received  a  few  pairs  of 
new  horses,  got  new  clothes,  and  drew  200  rounds 
of  ammunition  in  compliance  with  a  new  general  or- 
der for  Artillery  on  the  march.  On  August  15  the 
Battery  hiked  to  the  railroad  at  La  Ferte-sous- 
Jouarre  and  entrained.  The  train  followed  the  Marne 
through  Epernay,  Chalons,  Dormans, — all  names  we 
had  heard  before.  Signs  were  not  lacking  of  the  re- 
cent fighting;  pontoon  bridges,  which  had  been  caught 
under  artillery  fire,  equipment,  ruins,  and  wooden 
crosses;  but  for  the  most  part  we  kept  our  eyes  in- 
side the  car.  We  had  had  enough  of  horrors,  and 
longed  for  some  place  that  was  not  smashed,  where 
trees  were  green,  and  people  smiled. 

At  4.30  P.  M.  the  next  day  the  train  reached  Bar- 
sur-Seine.  The  heat  was  extreme,  which  was  sur- 
prising as  the  nights  were  very  cold.  It  was  during 
our  21  kilometer  march  from  Bar-sur-Seine  to  the  vil- 
lage of  Gommeville  that  we  were  given  the  first  real 
welcome  we  had  received  from  the  French.  Always 
they  had  been  mildly  curious,  but  here  the  news 
seemed  to  have  preceded  us  that  we  had  just  come 
from  the  famous  fight  that  turned  the  tide  at  Chateau 
Thierry,  and  to  these  peasants  we  were  as  much  he- 
roes as  their  own  brave  poilus.  Through  every  vil- 
lage the  children  came  out  to  greet  us,  running  along 
beside  the  horses  and  reaching  up  small  hands  to 
touch  ours.  Mothers  holding  babies  in  their  arms 
smiled  a  welcome  from  their  doorways,  and  the  pretty 


A  REAL  REST  147 

girls  came  running  with  bunches  of  wild  flowers  for 
us  to  wear  in  our  helmets.  It  was  a  new  experience 
and  we  were  delighted.  At  10  P.  M.  we  passed 
through  Mussy,  and  reached  Gommeville,  three  kilo- 
meters beyond,  where  we  pitched  pup-tents  in  a  field 
by  the  light  of  a  full  moon. 

The  next  morning  was  the  first  of  the  fourteen 
pleasant  days  we  were  to  spend  at  Gommeville.  As 
for  its  description,  it  may  have  been  a  very  ordinary 
village — even  ugly — but  the  people  were  kind,  the 
sun  was  bright,  and  the  Seine  was  cool ;  for  us  it  was 
Paradise.  Some  budding  Battery  genius  in  a  letter 
home  accomplished  a  description  that  is  almost  a 
classic  of  flamboyancy,  but  which  leaves  a  rather  ac- 
curate impression: 

"Picture  a  low  amphitheatre  of  hills  sloping 
sweetly  to  a  sun-parched  field  of  stubble.  Although 
you  do  not  look  attentively  at  these  upland  vineyards 
and  meadows,  yet  you  reap  from  them  a  sense  of  rich 
plenty  *  *  *  The  meadow  it  is  that  takes  your  eye; 
for  straight  across  its  yellow  expanse  is  stretched  a 
double  line  of  guns,  caissons,  wagons,  and  horses ;  and 
beyond  them  is  the  Seine.  Not  the  majestic  Seine  of 
the  city  bridges  this,  but  a  slow,  weedy  stream,  shaded 
by  beech  and  willow.  Along  its  banks  the  grass  is 
fresh  and  green, — a  fit  carpet  for  the  row  of  small 
brown  tents  which  toe  an  imaginary  mark  in  mock 
dignity.  And  over  all  comes  a  wayward  breeze  in- 
quisitively idling  down  from  the  hills  only  to  scurry 
in  panic  across  the  hot  meadow  and  cool  its  scorched 
wings  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  Seine." 

At  Gommeville  the  Battery  led  a  healthy,  normal 


148  BATTERY  A 

life,  building  up  the  bodies  and  spirits  of  men  and 
animals  alike.  There  was  grooming,  equitation, 
mounted  drill,  foot  drill,  gun  drill,  telephone,  signal 
and  instrument  practice,  and  problems  in  reconnais- 
sance. A  school  was  established  in  the  village  school- 
house  where  lectures  were  given  on  the  different 
specialists'  work.  For  one  day  the  Battery  took  part 
in  maneuvers  for  instruction  in  cooperation  with 
aeroplanes.  Frequent  after-supper  strolls  were  taken 
to  Mussy,  which  was  a  fairly  large  town.  In  short, 
our  lives,  before  so  haphazard  and  unregulated,  were 
shaken  down  into  a  beneficial  routine. 

Our  happiness  was  complete  when  leaves  of  ab- 
sence of  seven  days  were  granted  to  the  first 
ten  per  cent,  of  the  Battery.  The  lucky  men  bor- 
rowed "doggie"  clothes  from  their  friends  and  pre- 
pared to  start  for  a  week's  fun.  On  August  27  an  or- 
der came!  "All  leaves  are  cancelled:  be  ready  to 
move  without  warning."  At  6  P.  M.  August  30  the 
river  mist  from  the  Seine  rolled  in  whisps  over  the 
deserted  picket  line  and  camp  site,  while  the  Battery 
moved  with  a  mechanical  pace  through  Pothieres  and 
Bouix,  to  Poincon,  where  it  entrained  again  for  the 
front. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE 

AUGUST  31,  at  2.30  in  the  afternoon  the  train 
pulled  by  the  Nancois-Tronville  station  and 
backed  up  to  the  ramp,  where  the  work  of  detraining 
was  begun. 

On  account  of  the  great  length  of  this  ramp,  it  was 
possible  to  unload  both  horses  and  rolling  stock  at  the 
same  time.  Each  man  knew  his  job  thoroughly 
and  set  about  doing  it  in  the  quickest  possible  way, 
the  drivers  and  individually  mounted  men  unloading 
the  horse-cars  while  the  cannoneers  detrained  the 
carriages. 

As  soon  as  a  section  was  assembled  on  the  ramp, 
horses  were  harnessed  and  hitched,  and  in  about  fortv 
minutes  the  entire  Battery  was  ready  to  move  for- 
ward behind  the  scout  who  had  found  time  to  deter- 
mine the  first  part  of  the  route  and  return  to  the  train 
while  the  Battery  was  unloading. 

After  a  seven  kilometer  march  we  arrived  at  Tan- 
nois,  a  small  village  already  occupied  by  the  101st 
Trench  Mortar  Battery.  We  pulled  through  the 
town  to  a  valley  beyond,  and  parked  our  guns  and 
caissons  in  an  orchard  at  the  foot  of  a  steep,  grassy 
slope. 

We  had  orders  to  avoid  any  movement  or  display 
which  might  betray  our  presence  in  this  sector.  The 
horses  were  accordingly  tied  in  small  gfroups  to  cais- 
sons under  the  trees  and  the  heavy  wagons  were 
camouflaged  with  bushes.    Horses  were  watered  and 


150  BATTERY  A 


fed,  a  fire  started  in  the  rolling  kitchen,  and  hot  cof- 
fee, hard-tack  and  canned  willie  were  shortly  availa- 
ble. With  an  eye  rather  to  visibility  than  comfort,  the 
steep  slope,  which  happened  to  be  well  protected  by 
small  trees,  was  chosen  as  a  sleeping  place  for  the 
men.  There  seemed  to  be  some  question  as  to  whether 
it  was  preferable  to  pitch  the  pup-tents  broadside  to 
the  slope,  in  which  case  an  unguarded,  sleepy  turn 
would  not  only  down  one's  own  tent,  but  would  have 
the  effect  of  a  landslide,  demolishing  all  below  it;  or 
in  line  with  the  slope,  which  would  certainly  mean  a 
night  spent  in  slipping  out  from  under  one's  tent,  feet 
first  and  retrieving  the  lost  ground  by  painful  twists 
and  squirms.  The  latter  method  won  the  popular 
favor.  Some  of  the  more  careful,  dug  water-trenches 
around  their  tents  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  try  to 
level  off  the  floor;  others  were  too  tired  to  bother. 

Of  course  the  use  of  lights  was  forbidden;  blan- 
kets were  unrolled  in  the  dark,  and  to  make  matters 
worse,  it  started  to  rain.  The  water  poured  down 
the  hillside  and  through  the  tents;  the  men  who  had 
not  dug  water  trenches  had  to  turii  out  now  and  do 
their  best  to  avert  complete  disaster.  On  the  whole, 
the  night  was  not  a  success. 

The  next  day  was  spent  in  drying  wet  blankets  and 
clothing,  grooming  horses,  and  seeing  the  town,  which 
proved  very  much  of  a  "dud".  It  was  soon  discovered 
that  the  horses  had  eaten  the  caisson  boxes  during 
the  night.  These  boxes  had  been  built  out  of  green 
wood  at  the  start  of  the  trip,  and  were  used  to  carry 
extra  equipment  on  top  of  the  caisson  chests.  The 
boxes  were  repaired  with  difficulty  and  care  taken 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  151 

to  keep  them  out  of  reach  of  hungry  horses'  teeth. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  were  told  to  be  ready  to 
move  that  night.  Tents  were  struck,  saddle-bags  and 
haversacks  packed,  and  all  put  in  order  to  leave  at  the 
first  sign  of  darkness. 

After  an  all-night  march  through  many  small  vil- 
lages over  good  roads,  we  arrived,  just  as  it  was 
growing  light,  at  a  group  of  woods  near  Longchamps. 
Here  again  all  carriages  were  camouflaged  under 
thick  trees.  Horses  were  fed  and  rubbed  down. 
Mess-call  soon  sounded,  like  "a  good  deed  in  a 
naughty  world",  and  the  men  fell  in  for  breakfast; 
then  rolled  up  in  their  blankets  to  make  up  a  little 
lost  sleep.  With  the  exception  of  watering  horses 
and  eating  two  more  meals,  nothing  else  was  done 
all  day. 

At  dusk  the  Battery  started  out  on  another  all- 
night  hike,  which  abounded  in  tiresome  halts,  for  the 
entire  Regiment  was  in  the  column  of  march.  Toward 
morning  we  passed  a  lighted  sign  reading  "VER- 
DUN" :  every  man  in  the  Regiment  saw  that  sign, — 
and  wondered. 

We,  however,  turned  off  to  the  left,  following  a 
side  road  for  some  four  kilometers,  and  halted  at  a 
wood.  Word  was  passed  along  the  column  that  we 
had  arrived.  As  we  moved  again,  a  hill  was  seen  on 
the  right,  and  the  drivers  were  told  to  be  ready  for  a 
hard  pull.  We  turned  up  a  steep  road  into  more 
woods,  and  finally,  after  much  pulling  and  pushing  by 
the  horses  and  the  cannoneers,  we  came  into  a  small 
cl-earing  at  the  top.  It  was  still  quite  dark  under  the 
heavy  foliage,  but  there  was  light  enough  in  the  open 


152  BATTERY  A 

to  park  the  carriages  and  stretch  a  picket  line.  Pup- 
tents  were  pitched  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  the 
horses  watered  at  the  foot  of  a  road  leading  from 
Anglemont  Farm,  a  clump  of  ruined  buildings  nearby. 
In  view  of  the  dense  overhead  cover  of  branches  and 
the  cold,  it  was  judged  safe  and  desirable  to  light 
small  fires. 

As  no  orders  had  been  received  to  move  forward, 
the  next  two  days  were  spent  in  resting  and  getting 
the  horses  in  the  best  possible  condition.  Some 
amusement  was  afforded  by  a  nearby  aviation  field. 
The  following  night  our  little  fires  were  discontinued 
for  the  benefit  of  lowflying  Boche  planes,  which  were 
observed  over  our  woods  during  the  day.  Five  days 
had  now  gone  by  since  we  detrained  on  August  31. 
On  September  4th  we  were  once  more  ordered  to  be 
ready  to  move. 

The  Regiment  packed  up  and  started  late  in  the 
afternoon  on  still  another  all-night  affair.  This  time 
our  destination  was  an  echelon  north  of  Rupt-en- 
Woevre.  During  the  frequent  halts,  the  drivers  and 
single-mounted  men  dismounted  to  rest  their  horses, 
and  it  was  not  uncommon  to  see  one  with  his  arm 
through  his  bridle  rein  stretched  out  on  a  pile  of 
broken  rock  by  the  roadside  fast  asleep  in  spite  of 
the  penetrating  cold. 

By  early  morning  light,  we  reached  Rupt.  The 
roads  were  crowded  with  batteries  going  and  com- 
ing, and  in  the  confusion  our  first  platoon  took  the 
wrong  road,  which  led  them  directly  under  German 
observation,  but  the  mistake  was  quickly  discovered 
and  rectified  at  only  the  cost  of  a  nervous  half-hour. 


ONE     OF    OUR     MEN     STANDING     IN     THE     RUINS     OF     A     GERMAN 
TRENCH    IN    THE   ST.    MIHIEL   ATTACK 


OUR    HOMES    DURING    THE    REST    PERIOD    AT    GOMMEVILLE.       THE    SEINE    RIVER    FLOWED 
UNDER   THE    SHADE    OF    THE    TREES    IN    THE    BACKGROUND 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  153 

The  main  road  took  us  to  the  left  through  a  deep  val- 
ley, up  a  very  steep  muddy  hill  to  an  echelon  in  fhe 
woods.  This  echelon  consisted  of  one  large  wooden 
barrack,  which  accounted  for  over  half  the  Battery, 
and  a  few  old  shacks.  In  spite  of  their  usual  early 
morning  exhaustion,  the  drivers  watered  their  horses 
at  the  town  of  Rupt,  about  one  kilometer  away,  be- 
fore they  gave  up  the  hopeless  struggle  against  leaden 
eyelids. 

This  daily  trip  to  the  muddy  little  river  in  Rupt 
was  not  always  without  excitement,  for  every  few 
days  the  town  was  bombed  by  enemy  planes.  Only 
once  during  our  trips  there,  however,  did  we  have  to 
take  cover,  and  then  the  Hun  was  out  for  larger  game 
and  did  not  bother  us  in  the  least.  The  life  in  the 
Rupt  echelon  was  quiet  and  uneventful  for  the  men, 
but  we  were  kept  in  anticipation  of  a  nightly  move  by 
the  fact  that  Lt.  MacNamee  with  a  small  detail  was 
engaged  in  reconnoitering  the  lines  for  our  probable 
positions.  Each  added  night's  rest  seemed  a  special 
heaven-sent  gift  which  we  could  not  understand  but 
for  which  we  were  duly  thankful. 

At  last,  on  the  night  of  September  7,  all  nine  cais- 
sons were  sent  to  Genicourt  for  ammunition,  and  on 
the  following  night  we  received  orders  to  report  in 
regimental  column  in  the  woods,  facing  north.  Thus 
began  a  very  painful  experience. 

From  the  start  things  were  unpropitious.  The 
night  could  not  have  been  darker,  and  an  unfriendly 
sky  alternated  between  a  steady  downpour  of  rain  and 
unrestrained,  solid  torrents.  The  condition  of  the 
woodroads  can  be  better  imagined  than  described.  It 


154  BATTERY  A 

must  be  remembered,  though,  that  after  our  many- 
like  encounters,  no  one  entertained  any  illusions  con- 
cerning our  outlook.  After  jolting  through  the  cob- 
bled streets  of  Rupt,  the  Regiment  headed  up  a  valley 
road  which  led  perhaps  a  kilometer  through  the  open. 
Here  the  wet  road  underfoot  showed  a  shade  lighter 
than  the  surrounding,  opaque  sheets  of  rain.  At  the 
head  of  this  valley  the  road  suddenly  shrank  to  the 
width  of  one  pair  of  carriage  wheels,  and  disappeared 
entirely  in  the  edge  of  a  wood  so  heavy  that  the  trees 
interlacing  overhead  made  it  necessary  for  the  drivers 
to  bend  forward  to  remain  in  the  saddle.  Within  the 
wood,  the  road  climbed  upward  at  an  impossible  an- 
gle, flanked  on  either  side  by  slippery  three-foot 
banks.  The  entire  Regiment  was  confronted  with  the 
problem  of  climbing  this  muddy  tunnel — all,  that  is, 
except  the  heavy  wagons,  which  remained  hidden  in 
the  edge  of  the  woods.  The  whole  Regiment  waited 
in  the  rain  while  each  battery  in  succession  struggled 
with  this  atrocious  half  mile.  For  most  of  us  it  was 
a  kaleidoscopic  nightmare  of  mired  horses,  tangled 
harness,  broken  poles,  overturned  caissons,  darkness, 
rain,  cold,  mud,  slipping,  swearing,  pushing,  straining, 
but,  most  of  all,  standing  still  and  freezing,  hour  after 
hour,  waiting  for  the  battery  ahead  to  pull  through. 
One  of  our  cannoneers  slipped  under  a  gun-carriage 
which  ran  over  his  ankle  and  crushed  the  bone.  It 
was  a  miracle  that  more  of  us  were  not  hurt.  At  last, 
in  the  early  morning  when  it  was  already  light,  our 
Battery  gained  the  top  of  the  hill,  where  the  trees 
grew  thinner,  and  turned  sharply  to  the  right.  A 
short  hundred  yards  brought  us  to  an  old  French  posi- 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  155 

tion  some  2500  yards  behind  the  front  line  trenches. 
It  was  a  great  relief  to  the  cannoneers  not  to  have  to 
stretch  their  camouflage  nets, — always  an  irritating 
job,  and  particularly  after  a  hard  night  when  every- 
one's patience  is  finished. 

The  position  seemed  very  strong.  Little  work 
was  required  to  adapt  the  gun-pits  to  our  needs.  We 
found  that  C  Company  of  the  101st  Infantry  was  oc- 
cupying the  dugouts  until  it  should  have  orders  to 
move  down  to  its  jumping-off  trenches,  but  the  ex- 
traordinary "entente  cordiale"  which  existed  between 
our  Regiment  and  the  101st  Infantry  since  a  certain 
barrage  on  the  Chemin  des  Dames  not  only  averted 
any  unpleasantness  but  actually  turned  the  accident 
into  a  social  occasion  which  was  enjoyed  by  all  of  us. 
We  crowded  into  the  dugouts,  played  cards,  "chewed 
the  rag"  and  in  fact  became  the  best  of  friends.  Since 
the  dugouts  fell  short  of  housing  us  all,  however 
closely  we  crowded,  the  greater  part  of  the  Battery 
found  sheltered  places, — old  ammunition  pits,  or 
trenches  roofed  with  corrugated  iron — where  they 
could  spread  their  blankets  out  of  the  rain,  and  curl 
up  for  a  little  well-earned  rest.  Many  of  the  cannon- 
eers stretched  out  in  the  gun-pits  and  slept  soundly. 

As  it  was  growing  lighter  and  lighter,  and  the  ele- 
ment of  surprise  was  to  figure  largely  in  this  attack, 
the  horses  and  empty  caissons  were  hurried  back  to 
the  place  where  the  heavy  wagons  had  been  left  the 
night  before.  Here  an  echelon  was  established  on 
the  wooded  slopes  of  a  narrow  valley.  The  men  lived 
in  small,  wooden  shacks,  the  horse-lines  were  in  the 
woods  close  by,  and  the  limbers  and  caissons  were 


156  BATTERY  A 

parked  under  a  row  of  trees.  The  kitchen  was  estab- 
lished here  and  cooked  for  both  drivers  and  cannon- 
eers, the  food  being  sent  up  to  the  guns  on  a  limber. 
It  was  thought  indiscreet  to  risk  any  smoke  at  the 
guns  which  might  betray  their  presence. 

The  heavy  rain  continued  the  next  few  days,  but 
luckily  there  was  not  much  to  do  at  the  gun  position. 
There  was  some  pick  and  shovel  work  to  be  done  in 
the  gun-pits,  a  great  deal  of  ammunition  to  be  sorted 
and  cleaned,  and  most  of  all,  improvements  to  be  made 
on  individual  sleeping  quarters,  for  we  had  learned 
that  it  pays  to  be  comfortable  even  for  the  shortest 
time.  The  drivers  were  kept  busy  after  dark  hauling 
ammunition  from  the  dump  to  the  guns.  The  combi- 
nation of  continued  rain  with  its  bad  effect  on  the  ap- 
proach to  the  position,  and  the  steady  night  driving, 
began  to  tell  on  the  strength  of  both  horses  and  men. 
On  the  night  of  September  11,  instead  of  drawing 
shells  at  the  dump,  the  drivers  were  met  on  the  road 
by  trucks  from  the  101st  Ammunition  Train,  and 
loaded  their  caissons  directly  from  them;  after  this 
they  started  for  the  guns  by  a  new  route  that  led 
them  past  several  batteries  of  French  heavies.  This 
road  was  also  very  narrow,  and  the  fourth  section 
caisson  in  turning  out  for  a  French  fourgon  went  over 
the  side  of  a  bridge  and  dropped  some  eight  feet,  land- 
ing up-side-down.  Strangely  enough,  neither  horses 
nor  men  were  hurt,  and  the  trip  was  resumed. 

At  the  position,  the  men  were  becoming  impatient 
for  the  "show"  to  begin.  The  rain,  poor  quarters,  and 
the  appalling  infrequency  of  meals  were  beginning 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  157 

to  work  their  spell  on  the  cannoneers,  and  the  "rack- 
et" could  not  start  too  soon  to  suit  them. 

About  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  September 
12,  C  Company  of  the  101st  Infantry  received  orders 
to  get  ready  with  fighting  equipment  and  go  down 
after  dark  to  the  jumping-oflf  trench.    Their  prepara- 
tions were  carried  out  with  the  quiet  assurance  of 
veterans  to  whom  going  over  the  top  in  a  bloody  bat- 
tle was  as  commonplace  as  going  down  town  on  the 
street  car  to  work.    We  artillerymen  were  amazed  at 
their  perfect  sang-froid  and  indifference  on  the  eve 
of  what  everyone  expected  to  be  the  fastest  American 
offensive  of  the  war.     They  filed  past  the  ammuni- 
tion sergeant,  who  issued  to  each  man  his  share  of 
light  and  heavy  hand  grenades,  incendiary  bombs, 
rifle  grenades,  flares,  Very  lights,  etc.,  which  were 
carelessly  stuffed  into  overcoat  pockets  and  distrib- 
uted about  the  person  like  so  many  green  apples.    The 
doughboys  hated  to  swap  our  comfortable  dugouts 
for  the  front  line.    They  were  no  recruits ;  they  were 
men  who  knew  what  a  "big  push"  meant  for  the  in- 
fantry.    And  these  men  were  ready  to  go  into  St. 
Mihiel  with  all  the  dash,  with  all  the  tenacity  that 
had  characterized  their  work  at  Chateau  Thierry. 
They  filed  away  down  a  trench  like  silent  shadows  in 
the  darkness. 

In  the  meantime  the  Battery  had  received  firing 
orders  for  1  A.  M.  Everything  was  put  in  shape  for 
a  long  grind.  Fuses  were  laid  out  ready  to  hand,  ro- 
tating bands  were  greased,  buckets  of  water  were 
placed  near-by  to  cool  the  g^ns,  and  the  mechanics  in- 
spected and  oiled  the  pieces  so  that  everything  should 


158  BATTERY  A 

go  smoothly.  Most  of  the  sergeants  arranged  to  have 
only  four  of  each  gun  crew  start  the  firing,  the  others 
being  allowed  to  sleep  through  until  a  relief  was 
needed.  This  proved  a  wise  scheme  for  we  fired 
steadily  until  noon  the  next  day. 

Promptly  at  1  A.  M.  the  artillery  preparation 
started.  Hundreds  of  guns  of  all  calibers  gave  voice 
from  their  places  of  concealment  as  if  at  a  single  com- 
mand, as  indeed  it  was, — the  tick  of  a  second-hand  on 
a  hundred  synchronized  watches.  Until  eight  in  the 
morning  the  Battery  fired  steadily  on  portions  of  a 
Boche  trench  to  prepare  the  way  for  our  doughboys, 
waiting  to  start.  Eight  o'clock  was  "zero  hour",  and 
at  that  time  all  the  artillery  except  those  heavies 
which  were  pounding  the  Boche  rear  areas  started 
on  the  long  rolling  barrage,  which  preceded  the  In- 
fantry step  by  step  southeast  along  the  "Grande 
Tranchee  de  Calonne."  This  progressive  barrage 
stopped  at  11 :46  A.  M.,  but  the  pounding  of  the  rear 
areas  went  on.  The  Battery  had  fired  over  2241 
rounds  in  eleven  hours  steady  firing.  There  was  prac- 
tically no  return  fire  from  the  enemy. 

The  men  of  the  firing  battery  cleaned  the  guns, 
put  the  pits  in  order,  and  set  a  vigilant  guard  to  give 
warning  of  any  reverse  which  would  require  the  re- 
sumption of  fire,  while  the  rest  turned  in.  It  is  al- 
ways the  rule  in  a  drive  to  consider  no  chance  to 
sleep  too  short,  for  no  distinction  is  made  between 
night  and  day  except  perhaps  added  vigilance  and 
greater  activity  at  night. 

The  drivers,  in  accordance  with  this  rule,  had  been 
making  the  most  of  their  inactivity  during  the  firing, 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  159 

but  now,  barring-  a  reverse,  it  was  their  move.  A  re- 
port came  back  that  the  Boche  were  in  full  retreat 
with  our  infantry  at  his  heels.  In  the  afternoon  the 
combat  train  received  orders  to  move  up  behind  the 
gxms  so  that  the  Battery  could  start  at  a  moment's 
notice.  On  account  of  the  constant  rains  and  heavy 
teaming,  the  road  up  from  the  valley  was  in  even 
worse  condition  than  it  was  the  first  night.  To  get 
up  the  hill  at  all  the  horses  had  to  be  driven  to  the 
very  limit  of  their  endurance  for  they  were  com- 
pletely fagged  from  over-work  and  under-feeding. 
Finally,  a  point  about  a  hundred  yards  in  rear  of  the 
guns  was  reached,  and  the  horses  picketed  with  the 
carriages  under  the  trees.  The  drivers  pitched  pup- 
tents  on  the  soggy  ground  and  turned  in  for  what 
sleep  they  could  get.  After  two  hours  they  were  or- 
dered to  harness  and  hitch ;  tents  were  struck,  equip- 
ment rolled,  and  the  poor  horses  dragged  to  their  feet 
and  harnessed. 

Our  trip  forward  was  a  memorable  one.  In  the 
first  place,  the  difficulty  of  getting  started  was  great. 
The  horses  could  hardly  stand  on  their  feet,  let  alone 
negotiate  the  heavy  going  which  confronted  us.  Our 
orders  were  to  move  forward  at  midnight,  but  the  en- 
tire night  was  spent  in  forcing  the  carriages  through 
the  mud  to  the  solid  road.  It  was  not  until  after  day- 
light that  the  Battery  really  got  started,  with  all 
hands  three  quarters  asleep.  The  terrain  was  a  reve- 
lation of  the  terrific  destructive  power  of  our  artil- 
lery. At  the  time  it  seemed  to  us  that  we  had  de- 
stroyed the  roads  a  bit  too  completely  for  our  own 
good,  but  the  engineers  were  working  like  beavers, 


160  BATTERY  A 

filling  shellholes  with  old  wagons,  dead  horses,  and 
any  rubbish  that  came  to  hand.  Of  course  this  re- 
pairing occasioned  the  column  long  halts,  which  af- 
forded to  anyone  who  could  keep  his  eyes  open  a  per- 
fect chance  to  see  the  surroundings.  We  were  ap- 
proaching the  Grande  Tranchee  de  Calonne  from  a 
side  road  which  was  jammed  with  troops,  mostly  in- 
fantry kitchens  and  artillery.  On  all  sides  was  a  typi- 
cal old-fashioned  trench-warfare  no-man's  land,  with 
pill  boxes,  intricate  systems  of  wires  and  trenches, 
boyaux,  listening  posts  and  all,  now  a  complete  mess 
from  last  night's  pounding.  At  last,  after  an  inter- 
minable wait  the  column  got  under  way.  Every- 
where were  signs  of  the  greatest  confusion.  The 
dead  were  being  buried  as  fast  as  possible,  extra 
clothing  and  equipment  thrown  away  by  the  dough- 
boys in  yesterday's  fight  were  being  piled  by  the  road- 
side. Farther  along  we  passed  many  little  shacks  and 
dugouts,  comfortably  furnished  with  stuff  stolen  from 
the  nearby  French  towns,  built  by  the  Germans  in 
readiness  for  the  coming  winter. 

Once  on  the  Grande  Tranchee,  a  one-time  "Route 
Nationale",  the  going  was  much  better.  We  began  to 
pass  great  batches  of  Hun  prisoners,  with  many  Aus- 
trians  among  them,  going  to  the  rear,  sometimes 
three  or  four  hundred  under  the  guard  of  two  dough- 
boys. We  also  passed  a  great  number  of  captured 
auto-trucks,  and  in  fact,  booty  of  all  kinds.  In  many 
places  we  found  meals  half  eaten,  letters  and  papers 
hurriedly  left,  and  in  one  stable,  six  horses  dead  in 
their  stalls,  each  one  shot  neatly  through  the  head, — 
all  attesting  to  the  haste  of  the  German  retreat.  Here 


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THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  161 

the  road  was  lined  with  machine-gun  positions,  many 
with  the  Boche  machine  gunners  lying  dead  where 
they  had  fallen.  One  truck  had  been  the  scene  of  a 
desperate  struggle  between  its  Hun  drivers  who  lay 
in  grotesque  positions  both  in  the  truck  and  under- 
neath it,  and  the  victorious  Americans.  As  our  ad- 
vance was  so  rapid  into  the  enemy's  country,  the 
Battery  was  assigned  a  guard  of  eight  men  from  F 
Company  of  the  101st  Infantry.  German  prisoners 
by  hundreds  kept  streaming  past,  a  great  many  car- 
rying other  wounded  Huns  in  stretchers  on  their 
shoulders.  One  group  of  Huns  had  loaded  an  old 
French  buggy  with  their  wounded,  and  were  drag- 
ging it  along  the  road  into  captivity.  At  one  place  we 
saw  a  Boche  tank,  heavy  and  square  and  awkward, 
which  had  been  caught  under  our  artillery  fire  and 
smashed. 

The  Regiment  pushed  forward  to  within  a  half- 
mile  of  Hattonchatel  where  the  guns  went  into  posi- 
tion under  camouflage  nets  in  a  field,  ready  to  fire  at  a 
word  from  the  pursuing  Infantry,  while  the  horses, 
limbers,  caissons  and  wagons  were  parked  in  the 
woods  not  far  away.  We  were  on  a  sort  of  hog-back 
ridge,  of  which  Hattonchatel  formed  the  nose.  Below 
us  in  three  directions  lay  the  plain  of  the  Woevre;  the 
north  and  northeast  were  alight  with  burning  vil- 
lages whose  smoke  stained  the  whole  sky;  to  the 
southeast  was  our  old  enemy,  Montsec,  seen  from  a 
new  angle.  It  gave  us  a  feeling  of  pleasure  to  see  this 
old  hill  which  had  dominated  us  in  the  Toul  sector, 
now  so  harmless  in  our  hands.  There  was  a  rumor 
that  a  battalion  of  Boches  was  cut  off  in  the  caves 


162  BATTERY  A 

and  tunnels  with  which  the  place  abounded.  At  Hat- 
tonchatel'  itself  and  at  VigneuUes,  another  nearby- 
town,  the  Boche  had  abandoned  whole  storehouses  of 
clothing-,  arms  and  equipment.  So  fast  had  our  in- 
fantry penetrated  the  German  lines,  that  a  Boche 
soup-gun  driver,  not  knowing  that  the  town  was  in 
American  hands,  brought  his  load  of  steaming  hot 
supper  into  VigneuUes  and  experienced  some  difficulty 
in  finding  Germans  to  eat  it.  Our  doughboys,  how- 
ever, were  very  appreciative. 

Watering  the  horses  was  a  serious  problem,  which 
was  finally  solved  by  sending  them  to  Billy-sous-les- 
Cotes,  about  five  kilometers  away.  As  it  happened 
though,  it  worked  to  our  advantage,  for  a  warehouse 
was  discovered  at  Billy  from  which  we  took  not  only 
a  large  amount  of  food  for  the  men  and  horses,  but 
also  a  beautiful,  light,  German  wagon  to  haul  them 
in.  Trips  were  also  made  to  other  Boche  towns  like 
St.  Maurice,  and  salvage  of  all  kinds  was  found,  from 
live  rabbits  to  buckets  of  honey,  and  pianos.  At  St. 
Maurice,  drawn  up  on  the  loading  ramp,  there  were 
four  heavy  guns  which  the  Germans  had  been  too 
rushed  to  carry  away.  There  were  several  breweries, 
but  the  infantry  had  done  for  them,  alas. 

The  next  day,  September  14,  instead  of  going 
ahead  through  Hattonchatel  and  down  on  the  plain 
as  we  had  expected,  we  went  back  over  the  Grande 
Tranchee.  About  noon  we  pulled  off  the  main  road 
into  the  woods  to  the  right,  halting  by  a  German  en- 
gineer dump,  and  mess  was  served  from  the  rolling 
kitchen.  At  this  meal  a  new  dish  was  introduced  which 
stood  us  in  good  stead  for  many  weeks.  It  was  canned 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  163 

corned  beef  dipped  in  a  batter  of  flour  and  water  and 
fried  in  bacon  fat.  It  was  called  "Camouflaged  Willy". 
As  we  were  enjoying  this  meal,  a  battalion  of 
doughboys  passed  us  coming  out  of  the  lines.  They 
gave  us  some  German  hard-tack  which  is  quite  dif- 
ferent from  ours,  as  it  comes  in  a  little  white,  cloth 
bag,  and  is  about  the  size  of  oyster  crackers,  and 
sweetish.  The  doughboys  were  elated  at  their  com- 
plete success,  and  exhibited  many  "souvenirs"  they 
had  taken. 

After  a  halt  of  two  hours,  we  moved  forward 
through  the  woods  to  the  "Pioneerweg  au  Longeau". 
A  position  was  established  in  the  open  about  a  mile 
south  of  Longeau  Ferme.  The  cannoneers  worked 
hard  making  gun-pits  and  erecting  shelters,  but  once 
that  was  done,  the  life  was  an  easy  one,  for  the  Bat- 
tery was  not  called  on  to  fire  except  in  an  emergency, 
as  the  Boche  lines  were  far  out  on  the  plain  below. 
As  our  own  rations  were  very  low  at  this  time,  good 
use  was  made  of  the  captured  bean-soup  and  salt  fish. 
We  also  used  a  large  amount  of  the  forage  taken 
from  Billy  in  getting  our  horses  back  into  condition. 

We  had  just  settled  down  to  be  comfortable  in 
this  place,  when  on  September  16  we  were  ordered  to 
relieve  D  Battery  of  the  102nd  F.  A.  north  of  Dom- 
martin.  Their  position  proved  to  be  also  on  the  plat- 
eau overlooking  the  plain,  but  it  was  nearer  to  the 
German  lines.  The  guns  were  established  in  the  open, 
and  the  echelon  was  in  the  woods  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  them.  In  this  echelon  use  was  made  of  sev- 
eral old  German  dugouts  and  ammunition  houses 
built  of  concrete  slabs.     During  the  three  days  the 


164  BATTERY  A 

guns  were  in  this  position,  they  did  not  fire;  they  were 
too  far  back  to  be  of  any  use  except  in  a  Boche  at- 
tack. On  the  evening  of  September  19,  the  guns  were 
moved  forward  off  the  plateau  to  the  town  of  Herbeu- 
ville  on  the  plain,  but  the  echelon  stayed  where  it 
was.  The  road  down  to  Herbeuville  from  the  plateau 
was  a  peculiar  one.  It  wound  back  and  forth  along 
the  side  of  the  hill,  going  a  mile  to  get  down  a  fifty 
foot  slope.  From  the  top,  the  whole  length  of  the 
road  was  visible,  looking  like  a  snake  with  sharp 
bends  in  him,  disappearing  into  the  main  street  of 
Herbeuville,  a  ruined  town,  and  emerging  much  thin- 
ner on  the  farther  side  of  the  town  to  run  straight 
as  a  string  to  Wadonville  and  Saulx  far  out  on  the 
plain.  The  Battery  navigated  this  twisty  road  with 
safety,  and  landed  the  four  guns  and  ammunition  in 
Herbeuville  about  midnight. 

Fortunately  the  rain  of  the  early  evening  had 
stopped,  and  no  great  di§comfort  was  experienced 
during  the  rather  prolonged  business  of  getting  the 
guns  into  position  with  their  ammunition,  and  set- 
ting up  the  necessary  camouflage.  There  were  obsta- 
cles to  be  overcome,  such  as  heavy  tangles  of  barbed 
wire,  bushes,  and  shell  holes,  made  more  serious  by 
the  fact  that  no  light  could  be  struck;  consequently, 
no  one  had  any  idea  of  what  his  surrounding  really 
looked  like.  But  the  work  was  done  in  the  quiet,  ef- 
ficient manner  which  Lt.  MacNamee's  supervision  al- 
ways insured,  and  by  three  o'clock  all  the  guns  were 
in  position,  and  the  men  scattered  to  look  for  shel- 
tered sleeping  places. 

The  next  morning  we  were  able  to  satisfy  our  cu- 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  165 

riosity  as  to  what  kind  of  a  place  we  had  landed  in. 
The  first  thing  we  noticed  was  that  we  were  in  plain 
sight  of  the  German  lines,  where  pale  blue  "wursts", 
or  observation  balloons,  hung  in  a  graceful  curve 
seemingly  almost  within  rifle-range.  At  first  it  was 
highly  irritating  to  think  that  every  slightest  act  of 
ours  was  submitted  to  the  hostile  scrutiny  of  these 
pale  blue  eyes  on  their  slender  stalks,  but  we  got  used 
to  it  and  soon  forgot  it.  Herbeuville  was  an  area  of 
stone  ruins  about  200  yards  square,  lying,  with  many 
other  villages  now  destroyed,  under  the  shadow  of  a 
steep  hill  leading  up  to  a  plateau  on  which  were  the 
heights  of  the  Woevre.  Like  other  towns  it  had  its 
main  street,  its  little  square  with  a  few  shade  trees, 
its  church  whose  tower,  by  some  freak  of  fate,  was 
still  standing,  though  the  roof  and  walls  had  fallen 
in  across  the  altar  and  piled  the  flagged  floor  high 
with  rubbish.  It  also  had  its  little  red-roofed  rail- 
road station,  now  a  machine-gun  strong  point,  some 
300  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  town.  Our  four  guns 
were  cleverly  concealed  under  apple  trees>  hedges, 
and  behind  tumbled-down  garden  walls,  which  also 
afforded  some  protection  to  the  cannoneers.  This 
was  on  the  very  edge  of  the  town.  From  our  gun-pits 
we  could  look  out  towards  the  Boche  lines  over  a  flat, 
green  plain  ending  twenty  kilometers  away  in  the 
rolling  country  around  Conflans  and  Briey.  From 
Herbeuville  the  road  ran  two  kilometers  straight  out 
to  a  mangled  little  heap  of  ruins  which  seemed  to  be 
smoking  from  a  continuous  bombardment — ^Wadon- 
ville.  To  the  right  a  poplar-lined  road  led  to  Hannon- 
ville,  almost  as  heavily  shelled  as  its  neighbor,  and 


166  BATTERY  A 

to  the  left  front  was  Saulx;  all  three  front  line  towns 
held  by  our  Infantry.  As  it  was  a  clear  day,  we  could 
look  far  towards  the  north,  and  someone  discov- 
ered what  looked  like  factory  chimneys  stream- 
ing up  black  smoke !  It  seemed  unbelievable  that 
such  work  could  be  done  by  the  Boche  under  our 
very  guns,  but  the  explanation  was  that  the  Germans 
were  running  the  coal-mines  and  munitions  plants  of 
Briey  and  Conflans  with  Allied  prisoners  of  war,  so 
that  we  could  not  fire  on  them.  Beyond  our  front 
line  towns  were  the  German  front  line  towns;  Ria- 
ville,  Marcheville,  and  St.  Hilaire.  On  the  hillside 
behind  us  and  also  on  the  plain  were  battered  vine- 
yards, with  the  grapes  beginning  to  ripen. 

The  next  few  days  everything  went  smoothly. 
There  was  plenty  of  work  to  do  fixing  up  old  cellars 
for  cellar  quarters,  building  protection  for  the  gun- 
crews, and  establishing  a  reserve  of  ammunition.  The 
2nd  Platoon  guns  remained  in  their  orchard  where 
they  were  first  established,  but  the  1st  Platoon  moved 
its  guns  to  the  far  edge  of  the  town  where  more  pro- 
tection and  a  wider  field  of  fire  could  be  obtained. 
The  kitchen  was  in  a  shed  whose  roof  had  seen  better 
days,  but  which  still  was  more  useful  than  none.  Lt. 
MacNamee's  "Command  Post"  was  near  the  1st  Pla- 
toon in  a  reinforced  cellar.  The  Boche  had  left  a 
well-stocked  lumberyard  which  we  put  to  good  use 
reinforcing  cellars  and  building  bunks,  trail-logs,  and 
other  things. 

Life  for  the  firing  battery  at  Herbeuville  was 
very  pleasant.  For  the  most  part,  the  men  worked 
at  night  and  kept  out  of  sight  during  the  day. 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  167 

The  drivers  continued  at  the  echelon  up  on  the 
plateau.  The  daily  life  consisted  of  a  morning  and 
afternoon  grooming  period  after  which  the  horses 
were  ridden  bareback  down  the  valley  to  the  town 
of  Dommartin  to  the  only  water  available.  Beyond 
this,  little  was  done  during  the  daylight  hours.  It 
was  at  night  that  the  line  of  loaded  caissons  worked 
its  way  down  the  twisting  road  into  Herbeuville.  The 
road  was  frequently  under  fire  and  in  spots  offered 
treacherous  footing,  but  all  trips  were  made  with 
safety. 

The  echelon  had  the  bad  luck  to  have  an  active 
battery  of  the  103rd  Artillery  back  of  it,  and  almost 
every  night  the  Boche,  in  trying  to  put  them  out  of 
action,  would  cause  our  drivers  the  greatest  incon- 
venience. The  deep  dugouts  made  the  men  more  or 
less  independent  of  this  searching  fire,  but  for  the 
horses  there  was  no  protection.  One  afternoon  a  shell 
burst  closer  than  usual,  killing  one  horse  and  wound- 
ing another.  A  splinter  from  it  wounded  one  of  the 
drivers  who  was  taking  a  nap  in  his  pup-tent. 

The  town  of  Dommartin  sported  a  Red  Cross  hut 
and  a  delousing  machine,  or  "cootie  incubator".  The 
men  were  sent  down  from  the  guns  and  from  the 
echelon  in  small  groups  to  be  deloused.  After  their 
bath,  they  fell  in  line  at  the  Red  Cross  hut,  and  never 
came  away  empty-handed.  The  popularity  of  these 
visits  received  a  death  blow  when  a  German  210  mil- 
limeter H.  E.  shell  landed  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
cootie  machine! 

On  the  night  of  September  23  it  looked  as  if  the 
whole  Battery  might  have  some  fun.     A  raid  was 


168  BATTERY  A 

planned  against  St.  Hilaire,  and  the  plans  called  for 
a  schedule  of  fire  which  could  be  executed  only  from 
a  position  far  out  on  the  plain  between  Wadonville 
and  Saulx.  When  it  is  remembered  that  there  was 
practically  no  front  line  at  this  point,  but  only  small 
patrols  between  the  towns,  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
proposition  of  taking  position  out  there  promised 
much  in  the  way  of  rough  and  tumble  with  the  in- 
quisitive Boche  patrols.  Both  drivers  and  cannon- 
eers not  only  cleaned  their  pistols  and  borrowed 
loaded  clips  from  whoever  was  not  going,  but  in- 
dulged in  a  little  unauthorized  target  practice  to  make 
sure  they  worked.  By  9  P.  M.  the  guns  were  snaked 
out  of  the  pits,  limbered,  and  ready  to  join  the  cais- 
sons on  the  road. 

The  kilometer  and  a  half  was  accomplished  with- 
out incident.  The  horses  were  sent  back,  camou- 
flage nets  were  stretched  over  the  guns  and  ammuni- 
tion, and  both  machine-guns  were  set  up  with  a  wide 
field  of  fire  to  the  front.  Before  10  o'clock,  the  2nd 
Platoon  was  firing  a  short  preparation.  A  green 
rocket  from  the  Infantry  was  to  be  the  signal  for  one 
prepared  barrage.  The  2nd  Platoon  ceased  fire,  and 
everyone  sat  straining  their  eyes  for  the  green  rocket. 
They  sat  and  sat.  Pretty  soon  it  started  to  rain,  and 
developed  into  a  downpour.  Very  few  of  the  men 
had  slickers,  and  before  long  everybody  was  wet  to 
the  skin.  At  2.30  A.  M.  they  were  still  sitting  with 
their  eyes  glued  on  the  place  the  green  rocket  was 
supposed  to  show.  Then  some  of  G  Company  of  the 
102nd  Infantry  came  past  and  explained  that  their 
plan  to  meet  the  other  detachment  approaching  the 


n-i 


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it  *    .;> 


in 


ij"";* 


If     .!>- ^.        s    \^ Jlii 


*!   ]  ■    lo 


*>, 


JV  >?tj  ^.. 


^^ 


^ 


^ 


V 


B 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  169 

town  from  a  different  direction  had  failed,  no  barrage 
had  been  called  for,  and  the  raid  was  called  off.  On 
their  way  back,  however,  they  had  run  into  a  Boche 
machine-gun  nest,  and  after  killing  a  few  of  the  crew, 
had  succeeded  in  taking  11  prisoners, — more  than 
they  would  have  taken  in  the  raid. 

Lt.  MacNamee  telephoned  back  for  the  limbers 
and  we  were  soon  retracing  our  steps  to  Herbeuville, 
a  very  disappointed  and  "off  the  army"  battery.  Ar- 
riving about  3.30  A.  M.,  the  limbers  dropped  the  guns 
and  pulled  out  just  in  time  to  avoid  a  shelling. 

The  Boche  either  were  peeved  in  general  at  the 
night's  performance,  or  had  decided  to  include  Her- 
beuville in  their  strafing  list,  because  they  shelled  at 
frequent  intervals  during  the  day  and  night,  mix- 
ing mustard  gas  with  high  explosive.  One  gas  shell 
landed  on  the  first  piece  dugout,  and  made  all  the 
men  sick,  two  of  them  being  evacuated. 

As  the  Boche  artillery  grew  stronger,  it  was  up 
to  us  to  become  more  active,  but  had  we  fired  con- 
stantly from  our  Herbeuville  position  on  a  clear  day 
we  would  have  been  observed,  accurately  located  and 
destroyed.  So  each  night  two  guns  were  pulled  out 
on  the  plain  to  act  as  roving  pieces,  like  the  one  in 
the  Toul  sector,  firing  rapidly  for  a  short  time  and 
then  moving,  to  give  the  effect  of  being  several  ac- 
tive batteries.  Our  2nd  and  4th  pieces  started  the 
game  on  the  night  of  September  24.  Each  night  the 
crews  were  changed,  and  more  ammunition  sent  out. 
The  food  was  carried  out  by  two  men;  a  larger  group 
would  have  betrayed  the  hidden  guns.  The  heaviest 
part  of  the  work  during  these  days  and  nights  fell  on 


170  BATTERY  A 

the  telephone  men,  for  the  distances  were  great,  wire 
was  pitifully  scarce,  and  the  positions  kept  moving. 
The  lines  also  ran  over  ground  which  was  continually 
under  fire,  and  afforded  no  shelter  to  the  men  repair- 
ing the  wires. 

On  September  26,  with  our  3rd  and  4th  pieces  out 
on  the  plain  and  the  1st  and  2nd  in  Herbeuville,  we 
were  notified  that  we  would  back  up  the  102nd  Infan- 
try in  an  attack  on  Marcheville  and  Riaville,  which 
was  to  act  as  a  diversion  for  a  big  attack  west  of  Ver- 
dun. The  idea  was  to  capture  the  towns,  maintain  a 
footing  in  them  all  day,  and  fall  back  to  the  old  front 
line  under  cover  of  darkness,  creating  the  greatest 
possible  disturbance  with  the  least  possible  loss. 

The  artillery  preparation  was  scheduled  to  start 
at  1  A.  M.,  but  our  Battery  was  not  to  fire  until  6.30 
A.  M.  We  started  promptly  and  fired  55  minutes, 
then  repeated  the  same  barrage.  Our  Infantry  had 
no  sooner  started  than  the  Boche  laid  down  a  ter- 
rific defensive  fire.  At  about  10.30  A.  M.  the  report 
came  in  that  the  Infantry  had  gained  their  5  kilo- 
meter objective  with  heavy  losses.  In  the  course  of 
the  day  we  fired  a  box  barrage  around  Marcheville 
four  or  five  times  to  break  up  the  tremendous  Boche 
counterattacks.  The  towns  changed  hands  several 
times,  but  remained  with  the  102nd.  We  fired  at  in- 
tervals until  7.15  A.  M.  It  was  really  direct  fire,  for 
we  could  plainly  see  the  Boche  and  the  white  smoke 
of  our  shells  from  our  position  in  Herbeuville.  The 
wounded  doughboys  straggled  back  singly  and  in 
small  groups,  discouraged  at  the  evident  uselessness 
of  their  attacks,  for  they  had  received  orders  to  re- 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  171 

linquish  their  hard-won  5  kilometers  to  the  Boche. 
All  day  long-  and  all  that  night  we  heard  the  heavy, 
continuous  boom  of  artillery  away  to  our  left,  and  we 
knew  that  the  big  attack  near  Verdun  was  on  in 
earnest.  .  .  . 

For  the  next  four  or  five  days  two  guns  were  kept 
always  under  camouflage  out  on  the  plain.  As  it 
rained  and  drizzled  almost  all  this  time,  and  the  tem- 
perature dropped  to  zero,  the  gun  crews,  machine- 
gunners,  and  telephone  men  led  a  miserable  life  out 
there.  The  Boche  harassed  and  pounded  Hannon- 
ville,  Herbeuville,  Wadonville,  Saulx,  and  behind  us 
on  the  hill,  indiscriminately.  A  rumor  got  around 
that  we  were  to  swap  positions  with  B  Battery  up 
on  the  hill  near  our  echelon. 

On  the  morning  of  October  2  we  fired  a  box  bar- 
rage of  776  rounds  on  the  Bois  de  Warville.  The  In- 
fantry made  their  objective  without  the  loss  of  a 
man.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we  received  orders  to 
pull  back  to  B  Battery's  position. 

The  trip  back  was  both  difficult  and  dangerous. 
The  Boche,  peevish  as  usual  after  a  setback,  were 
firing  heavy  shells  in  a  sulky  sort  of  way  against  the 
hillside.  At  the  worst  place  in  the  road,  where  there 
was  a  shell  crater  large  enough  to  hold  three  cais- 
sons, we  met  E  Battery  of  the  102nd  coming  down 
to  Wadonville  for  a  raid.  Of  course  we  had  trouble 
in  passing.  Then  we  got  mixed  up  with  some  Ammu- 
nition Train  caissons  and  also  with  some  B  battery 
carriages  coming  to  occupy  our  position  in  Herbeu- 
ville. At  last,  around  midnight,  the  Battery  reached 
the  B  battery  position  on  the  crest  of  the  plateau 


172  BATTERY  A 

just  behind  a  big  road  hung  with  rafia  screens  and 
called  the  Ost  Tranchee.  While  the  guns  were  being 
put  in  the  pits,  several  shrapnel  burst  directly  over 
our  heads.  The  balls  spattered  in  the  woods  behind 
us,  hurting  no  one,  but  Lt.  MacNamee  thought  it 
wiser  to  take  cover  in  case  the  range  should  be  de- 
creased. As  it  happened  he  was  right.  No  sooner  had 
the  men  reached  a  nearby  battery  position,  than  the 
bursts  began  to  cover  the  very  place  we  had  been 
working.  We  stayed  in  the  dugouts  until  the  Boche 
got  tired  playing,  and  then  finished  the  routine  work 
of  camouflaging  and  laying  in  the  guns.  The  living 
quarters  proved  to  be  tar-paper  shacks  such  as  we 
had  in  the  "swamp  position",  proof  against  nothing 
but  light  rain.  They  were,  however,  taken  on  trust, 
and  no  one  suffered  for  it. 

This  was  a  reserve  position, — no  firing  except  in 
an  emergency,  and  so  we  lived  a  pleasant  life.  In 
this  position  our  food  reached  the  highest  degree  of 
excellence  yet  attained ;  sleep  was  plentiful,  telephone 
lines  short.    In  fact,  things  were  altogether  too  good ! 

Sure  enough,  on  October  5  the  blow  fell ;  Captain 
MacNamee  (he  had  just  been  promoted)  received  or- 
ders to  leave  the  Battery  and  report  as  an  instructor 
at  Coetquidan.  After  he  had  said  good-bye  and  gone 
away,  nobody  seemed  to  have  much  to  say.  The  life 
was  gone  out  of  the  Battery.  The  command  fell  on 
Lt.  Storer,  who  took  charge  until  Captain  Hunting- 
ton should  return  from  Coetquidan.  We  next  heard 
that  we  were  to  be  relieved  by  the  113th  F.  A.  on 
October  9. 

When  the  guns  had  moved  back  to  the  Ost  Tran- 


THE  ST.  MIHIEL  DRIVE  173 

chee  on  the  2nd,  our  echelon  had  also  moved  back, 
establishing  itself  near  the  town  of  Dommartin, 
where  the  1st  Platoon  now  went  after  having  been 
relieved  the  night  of  September  9.  The  next  night  the 
2nd  Platoon  was  relieved,  and  the  whole  Battery 
reassembled  and  rejoined  the  Regiment  at  Rupt-en 
Woevre  after  a  short  march,  where  they  spent  the 
day.  In  the  evening  the  Regiment  harnessed  and 
hitched  and  took  the  road. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  VERDUN  FRONT 

/^N  September  26,  1918  began  the  Meuse-Argonne 
^-"^  drive  which  was  destined  to  reach  Sedan  and 
end  the  war.  It  was  also  destined  indirectly  to  cause 
the  firing-battery  of  "A"  of  the  101st  F.  A.  the  nas- 
tiest service  it  had  yet  seen.  Our  division  had  al- 
ready made  one  "diversion", — at  Marcheville — for 
the  purpose  of  drawing  German  reserves  from  the 
Argonne.  Now  we  were  to  make  another  for  the 
same  purpose.  Had  we  known  on  October  11  the  form 
that  diversion  was  to  take,  we  might  not  have  pulled 
out  of  Rupt-en-Woevre  with  so  light  a  step. 

However,  leaving  the  future  to  take  care  of  itself, 
the  Battery  ate  its  bread,  "Willie,"  and  coffee  at  5 
P.  M.,  and  by  7.00  was  in  its  place  in  Regimental  col- 
umn crossing  the  St.  Mihiel — ^Verdun  highway.  The 
night  was  so  dark  that  each  battery  had  to  keep  two 
men  riding  ahead  in  contact  with  the  unit  in  front 
to  give  warning  of  halts  and  to  mark  turns,  although 
the  distance  between  units  was  never  more  than  fifty 
yards.  It  was  also  intensely  cold,  but  to  make  up  for 
that  the  road  was  perfect. 

Of  course  we  did  not  know  our  destination,  but 
no  one  felt  happier  for  seeing  the  dread  word  "Ver- 
dun" painted  on  signboards  along  the  way.  This 
dread  was  not  an  unfounded  one  as  events  proved. 
Towards  morning  the  Battery  passed  through  the 
edge  of  Verdun  itself.  The  sky  was  a  shade  lighter 
than  the  massive,  angular  walls  which  towered  on 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  175 

either  side.  For  several  hours  we  had  been  within 
sound  of  the  guns,  but  at  this  point  a  dozen  shells 
burst  at  uncomfortable  distances  from  the  road.  It 
may  have  been  a  coincidence  that  a  truck  with  head- 
lights burning  in  violation  of  all  rules,  had  just  passed 
that  spot. 

A  little  before  daylight,  after  a  hard  40  km.  hike, 
the  drivers  urged  their  tired  horses  up  the  muddy  hill 
from  Baleicourt  to  the  N.  W.  edge  of  the  Bois  Des 
Sartelles,  where  the  picket  line  was  stretched  under 
the  trees.  The  men  turned  in  without  ceremony  and 
slept  where  they  fell,  in  a  dirt-floored  wooden  Adrian. 

With  dawn  came  a  cold  drizzle  of  rain.  The  un- 
fortunate drivers  dragged  themselves  out  of  their 
blankets  to  feed  and  water,  while  those  cannoneers 
who  were  not  totally  dead  to  the  world,  chose  between 
blankets  and  mess.  The  afternoon  and  next  day, 
Sunday,  being  also  rainy,  were  spent  in  grooming 
horses  and  overhauling  equipment  for  another  trick 
in  the  lines.  Monday  it  rained  again,  or  rather  still, 
for  there  was  a  continuous  gray  drizzle  which  turned 
the  deep  mud  in  the  Bois  des  Sartelles  into  a  veritable 
quagmire.  In  the  afternoon  the  divisional  show  gave 
a  performance  near  Baleicourt.  As  orders  to  pull  up 
the  lines  were  expected  at  any  minute,  the  caissons 
and  limbers  were  loaded  with  shell. 

Monday  evening  saw  tremendous  excitement 
throughout  the  Regiment,  for  there  was  a  newspaper 
which  announced  the  end  of  the  war.  It  said  the  Ger- 
mans agreed  to  discuss  the  "14  points",  and  the  last 
shot  was  to  be  fired  at  six  P.  M.  that  very  night. 
Everyone  turned  in  with  a  feeling  of  subdued  elation. 


176  BATTERY  A 

to  be  wakened  by  the  noise  of  a  particularly  violent 
and  prolonged  barrage  west  of  the  Meuse.  .  .  . 

Tuesday  at  noon  mess  the  always  unpleasant  or- 
der came  to  "harness  and  hitch."  Shortly  after  2 
P.  M.  the  Regiment  wound  down  the  hill  out  of  the 
woods  and  took  the  road  towards  Verdun.  At  Charny, 
a  ruined  town  on  the  Meuse,  the  Regiment  halted 
from  six  to  nine  for  bread  and  coffee.  For  us  of  the 
firing  battery  at  least,  this  marked  the  "end  of  a  per- 
fect day,"  and  from  now  on  imperfections,  beginning 
with  a  cold  rain,  began  to  come  into  evidence. 

The  park  wagons  and  soup-gun  remained  behind 
at  Charny,  while  the  pieces  and  caissons  of  the  First 
Battalion  splashed  on  in  the  dark  through  Bras,  Va- 
cherauville,  and  Samogneux,  turning  to  the  right  at 
last  into  the  Ravin  D'Haumont,  "Death  Valley."  In 
spite  of  the  darkness,  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  the 
evidences  of  a  tremendous  concentration  of  troops, 
mostly  artillery: — it  looked  less  and  less  like  "peace 
by  arbitration." 

About  midnight  the  Battalion  halted,  A  Bat- 
tery being  in  the  lead.  At  this  point  the  road  lay 
through  a  narrow  defile  formed  by  steep  slopes  on 
each  side.  On  the  right  we  could  feel — for  one  could 
not  see  past  the  end  of  his  nose — a  steep  bank  some 
four  feet  high.  Over  this  bank  and  somewhere  up  be- 
yond lay  the  A  Battery  goal.  Shovels  were  brought 
into  action,  and  while  the  drivers  unloaded  their  cais- 
sons beside  the  road,  the  cannoneers  cut  away  enough 
of  the  bank  to  permit  the  passage  of  the  guns. 

Then  began  the  main  event  of  the  evening  which 
was  to  be  a  nightmare  in  the  memory  of  everyone 


FIRST  VERDUN  POSITION.  CLOSE  VIEW  OF  TELEPHONE  DETAIL  QUARTERS  IN  OPEN 
SHELL  HOLE  WITH  CANVAS  TO  KEEP  OFF  RAIN.  SHELL  BURSTING  IN  THE  AIR  OVER 
HAUMONT 


DEATH   VALLEY.    A    BATTERYS    KITCHEN    IN    SHELL    HOLE    IN    LEFT    FOREGROUND. 
HAUMONT   LIES  ON    RIDGE   IN    THE   DISTANCE 


DESTROYED    VILLAGE   OF 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  177 

concerned.  Our  course  lay  for  three  hundred  yards 
up  an  impossible  slope,  made  hideous  by  terraces, 
shell-holes,  darkness  and  rain.  At  first  with  six 
horses,  then  eight,  ten,  twelve  and  finally  with  every 
man  in  the  Battalion  straining  at  the  ropes,  the  first 
gun  was  boosted  inch  by  inch  up  the  hill.  It  was 
discouraging  to  contemplate  eleven  more  such  bouts, 
but  fortunately  B  and  C  Batteries  were  assigned  po- 
sitions near  the  foot  of  the  hill,  so  that  we  were 
spared.  We,  however,  tugged  away  at  A  Battery's 
three  remaining  pieces  all  the  rest  of  the  night.  The 
rain  increased,  and  it  grew  colder. 

Daylight  found  us  shivering,  wet  to  the  skin,  half- 
frozen,  plastered  with  mud,  feebly  coaxing  the  last 
gun  into  position  on  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  horses 
had  long  since  been  sent  back  exhausted.  It  was  at 
this  unenlightened  moment  that  Capt.  Huntington 
rejoined  the  Battery  after  his  seven  months  absence 
at  Coetquidan. 

By  a  miracle  the  Germans  had  not  fired  on  us  all 
night,  but  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  they 
made  up  for  this  negligence.  Our  three  cooks  had  es- 
tablished the  kitchen  near  the  road,  some  hundred 
yards  down  the  hill  from  the  guns.  They  were  peace- 
fully cooking  steaks,  and  several  of  the  men  were 
trying  to  thaw  out  by  the  fire  in  spite  of  a  cold  wind, 
when  the  first  150  mm.  H.  E.  lit  in  the  road  near  them. 
There  was  a  quick  rush  towards  the  nearest  shelter, 
the  Boyau  D'Haumont  of  1916  fame,  a  battered 
trench  which,  starting  across  the  road  from  our  kitch- 
en, straggled  up  the  hill,  along  the  crest,  and  finally 
lost  itself  in  the  direction  of  Brabant.    Before  three 


178  BATTERY  A 

shells  had  burst,  most  of  the  Battery  were  huddled  in 
this  trench,  chewing  the  half-done  steaks  which  one 
of  the  cooks  with  admirable  presence  of  mind  had 
rescued. 

As  the  bombardment  of  the  valley  became  more 
intense,  we  moved  up  the  trench  towards  the  crest  of 
the  hill.  From  this  eminence  it  was  possible  to  over- 
look the  country  in  three  directions.  To  the  south 
about  a  kilometer  back  lay  Samogneux,  a  completely 
leveled  area  of  rubbish.  Beyond  this  was  the  Verdun- 
Sedan  road,  and  farther,  the  fringe  of  trees  which 
marked  the  Meuse.  To  the  north  rose  a  battered  hill- 
side, cut  by  the  road  which  led  up  to  Haumont,  a  pile 
of  debris  only  slightly  more  imposing  than  Samog- 
neux. Squatting  on  this  hillside  like  huge  toads  we 
could  make  out  a  dozen  tanks,  awaiting  the  "big  jam" 
under  their  camouflage  nets  and  branches.  Beyond, 
just  below  C,  below  us  and  winding  its  shiny  length 
out  of  sight  in  both  directions  lay  the  Samogneux- 
Crepion  road;  toward  the  south  infested  with  dress- 
ing-stations, infantry  kitchens,  machine-gun  eche- 
lons, light  and  heavy  batteries  in  position;  and  toward 
the  north  with  barbed-wire,  gas,  front  line  trenches, 
— and  of  course,  mud.  The  whole  outlook  on  this 
bleak,  cold  morning  produced  an  impression  of  cheer- 
lessness  and  desolation, — it  was  truly  the  "Valley  of 
the  Shadow  of  Death." 

The  heavy  shelling  along  the  ravine  lasted  some 
forty  minutes,  killing  several  men  and  horses,  but 
none  of  ours.  As  the  rain  of  the  night  before  had 
given  place  to  a  heavy  mist,  we  felt  at  liberty  to 
move  about  at  will — with  always  an  eye  to  the  near- 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  179 

est  shell-hole.  The  guns  were  camouflaged  and  laid 
in  on  a  defensive  barrage.  The  disrupted  kitchen  was 
re-established  in  a  huge  shell-hole  higher  up  on  the 
hill-side.  Three  hundred  twenty-pound  shells  were 
carried  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  two  at  a  time  or  four  at 
a  time,  depending  on  the  man's  state  of  exhaustion. 
Telephone  lines  were  stretched  to  Battalion  Head- 
quarters across  the  valley  and  up  the  hill  to  the  g^ns, 
and  a  central  established  in  a  shell-hole. 

Towards  dark  the  question  of  sleeping  quarters 
most  naturally  presented  itself.  Each  man  appro- 
priated a  shell-hole  along  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  and 
made  such  improvement  as  he  could.  The  rain  was 
partially  deflected  by  a  shelter — half  spread  over  the 
hole,  but  it  had  a  disagreeable  way  of  forming  a  pud- 
dle in  the  hollow  of  the  canvas  and  suddenly  delug- 
ing the  blankets  and  person  of  the  proprietor,  at  the 
least  provocation.  After  mess,  a  gun-guard,  gas- 
guard,  and  telephone-guard  were  posted,  and  in  spite 
of  the  wet  and  cold,  everyone  slept  the  blissful  sleep 
of  the  ignorant. 

The  morning  of  October  19  dawned  clear  and  dry. 
It  meant  the  Boche  could  now  observe  our  move- 
ments, but  we  didn't  consider  that,  for  we  were  thor- 
oughly sick  of  wet  clothes  and  wet  blankets.  The 
night  before  eight  caissons  had  come  up  with  am- 
munition, and  twenty  of  the  horses  with  five  drivers 
had  remained  behind,  spending  the  night  in  shell- 
holes  near  the  kitchen.  All  day  Friday  was  spent  in 
packing  shells  up  the  hill  on  the  backs  of  the  horses, 
ten  shells  at  a  time  swung  in  a  blanket.  In  this  way 
we  got  1000  rounds  up  to  the  guns.    During  the  day. 


180  BATTERY  A 

eight  shots  were  fired  for  adjustment  of  the  defen- 
sive barrage,  and  a  hundred  rounds  of  harassing  fire 
on  various  targets.  Towards  evening  the  valley  was 
subjected  to  a  heavy  shelling  throughout  its  length 
which  resulted  in  killing  one  of  our  twenty  pack- 
horses.  Two  batteries  of  the  322nd  F.  A.  which  had 
been  in  front  of  us  pulled  out  during  the  night. 

Saturday  was  cold  and  overcast  for  a  change.  The 
Battery  fired  on  the  Houppy  Bois.  The  Boche  re- 
taliated with  large  caliber  shells  in  the  valley.  Several 
came  suspiciously  close  to  the  guns,  but  cleared  the 
top  of  the  hill  by  a  narrow  margin,  so  we  could  not  be 
sure  they  were  meant  for  us.  The  echelon  was  moved 
from  Charny  24  kilometers  back  to  the  Bois  des  Sar- 
telles, — the  greatest  distance  we  had  ever  had  be- 
tween guns  and  horse-line. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  the  troop  movement 
and  congestion  in  our  valley  had  not  escaped  the 
watchful  eye  of  the  Boche  observation  balloons.  Sun- 
day morning  at  half  past  five  a  lively  rapid  fire 
combed  the  hill-top,  swamping  our  four  guns  with 
high  explosive  and  poison  gas,  and  McCann,  Scale, 
Maguire,  Foley,  L.  L.,  Cope  and  Lorenzen,  who  were 
doing  guard  duty,  were  so  badly  afifected  that 
they  were  sent  to  the  hospital.  The  Battery  fired  spas- 
modically all  morning.  In  the  early  afternoon  our 
kitchen  was  the  storm  center  of  an  irregular  bom- 
bardment with  heavy  H.  E.  shells  charged  with  ar- 
senic gas.  The  cooks  endeavored  for  some  time  to 
make  pancakes  and  dodge  shells  at  the  same  time, 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  181 

but  the  shells  won  out  in  the  end.  Three  cooks  were 
gassed  and  evacuated  at  this  time. 

It  would  seem  the  Germans  had  done  enough  to 
us  for  one  day,  but  not  at  all.  Misfortunes  never  come 
alone,  and,  of  course,  it  began  to  rain  about  4.30  P.  M. 
Towards  dusk  a  short,  savage  bombardment  killed 
one  of  our  water-cart  horses  and  wounded  the  other. 
Worst  of  all  it  seriously  wounded  Wood,  their  driver. 
Also  a  medical  attendant  of  another  outfit  was  killed 
in  the  trench  leading  into  our  kitchen. 

For  the  next  three  days,  the  Boche  never  forgot 
where  we  were,  and  never  let  us  forget  that  he  knew. 
The  shell-hole  quarters  were  deepened  and  improved, 
shelter-trenches  were  dug  near  the  guns,  and  the 
losses  replaced  from  the  echelon.  Almost  every  night 
caissons  or  trucks  replenished  the  ammunition  piles 
beside  the  road,  and  every  available  man  was  kept 
at  work  lugging  the  shells  up  the  hill.  At  best  it  was 
a  heartbreaking  climb  and  our  Teutonic  friends  did 
their  best  to  make  it  a  dangerous  one. 

On  Wednesday,  October  23  at  6.15  in  the  morning, 
after  a  night  rendered  sleepless  by  Boche  harassing 
fire,  the  Battery  started  to  fire  its  share  of  the  artil- 
lery preparation  against  the  Belleu  Bois,  Bois  de  la 
Reine,  and  Bois  D'Ormont.  During  the  attack,  the 
Battery  fired  1180  rounds  in  front  of  the  advancing 
infantry  without  drawing  any  retaliation — at  least 
not  at  that  time.  In  the  late  afternoon  we  fired  the 
defensive  barrage  repeatedly.  Our  doughboys  had 
gained  all  objectives,  as  was  their  habit,  but  with  se- 
vere losses.  The  Boche  was  perhaps  dazed  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  American  onslaught,  but  he  recov- 


182  BATTERY  A 

ered  from  his  daze,  and  that  at  a  time  most  fatal  to 
A  Battery,  for  our  Battalion  received  orders  to  move 
forw^ard  that  same  night. 

The  Caisson  Co.  of  the  101st  Ammunition  Train 
that  was  detailed  to  move  our  ammunition  forward 
arrived  at  our  old  position  around  11.30.  Six  caissons 
were  loaded  from  the  piles  beside  the  road.  Mean- 
while the  gun  crews  were  putting  the  four  pieces  in 
march  order  to  be  ready  for  our  limbers,  due  at  any 
minute.  Heavy  black  clouds  moved  across  the  sky, 
allowing  short  periods  of  the  clearing  moonlight.  The 
air  was  cold.  By  midnight  the  guns  were  ready  and 
on  the  road  behind  the  loaded  caissons,  moving  slowly 
up  the  ravine.  The  park-wagon  loaded  with  kitchen- 
ware  and  personal  equipment  was  placed  in  rear  of 
the  last  caisson.  The  progress  of  the  column  was 
not  steady.  Each  delay  caused  us  the  keenest  anx- 
iety. During  our  stay  in  "Death  Valley"  we  had 
learned  to  dread  and  expect  the  sudden  bursts  of  fire 
directed  against  any  portion  of  the  road  or  valley  at 
irregular  intervals  during  both  day  and  night. 

About  one  kilometer  ahead  there  was  a  point 
where  the  hill  climbed  abruptly  up  from  the  road  on 
the  left,  a  steep  bank  at  its  base.  On  the  right  was  a 
shallow  ditch  and  then  a  field,  cut  by  wire  entangle- 
ments, which  sloped  gradually  upward  from  the  road. 
Our  position  had  been  chosen  in  the  center  of  this 
field,  astride  a  tract  of  wire.  Here  the  head  of  the 
column  halted.  The  caisson  drivers  drew  over  against 
the  ditch,  dismounted,  and  started  to  unload  their 
shells,  piling  them  rapidly  along  the  roadside. 

It  seemed  to  us  unusual  that  the  German  batteries 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  183 

had  remained  so  long  inactive.    The  park-wagon  was 
pulling  up  on  the  left  of  the  caissons  in  order  to  enter 
the  field  and  turn  around,  as  the  road  was  too  narrow 
for  a  turn.  .  .  .  There  came  a  rumble  from  the  Ger- 
man lines,  and  a  heavy-calibre  shell  screamed  its  way 
towards  us,  bursting  with  a  vivid  flash  in  the  field  to 
our  right — the  very  place  we  were  to  go  into  position. 
Drivers  sprang  to  their  horse's  heads  and  waited.  An- 
other rumble,  and  before  a  man  could  move  the  in- 
ferno was  on  us.    Horses  reared,  crazed  by  the  blind- 
ing flash  and  noise.    Men  stood  dazed  or  leapt  blindly 
for  shelter.    Some  struggled  to  reach  fallen  comrades 
under  tangled  harness  and  shattered  caissons.    Oth- 
ers vainly  fought  to  turn  the  horses  in  the  narrow 
road,  or  to  cut  them  loose: — and  always  the  shells 
beat  down,  killing,  tearing,  blasting  the  confusion  into 
frenzy.    It  was  during  this  action  that  Sgt.  Peabody, 
tending  to  his  duties  with  the  utmost  disregard  for 
personal  danger  received  a  mortal  wound  and  died 
shortly  after  on  the  way  to  the  hospital.     Summing 
up  our  losses,  we  found  that  besides  Peabody;  Knox, 
Rodliff,  and  Priebe  had  been  wounded  and  evacuated. 
The  attack  stopped  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun. 
With  difficulty  some  degree  of  order  was  brought  out 
of  the  chaos.     Runners  were  dispatched  for  ambu- 
lances, the  dead  horses  and  debris  were  dragged  aside, 
and  blanket  rolls  were  heaped  around  the  wounded 
to  protect  them  from  the  stray  splinters  which  buzzed 
over  us  from  the  field  where  single  shells  were  still 
landing  at  frequent  intervals.     In  spite  of  this,  the 
work  of  hauling  the  guns    into    position    went    on. 
"Death  Valley"  seemed  to  be  justifying  its  name. 


184  BATTERY  A 

The  rest  of  the  night  settled  down  to  a  grim  strug- 
gle against  shaken  nerves.  Isolated  shells  both  gas 
and  H.  E.  kept  falling  on  the  position  and  near  the 
road.  The  men  worked  tenaciously,  spreading  cam- 
ouflage nets,  carrying  shells,  running  telephone  lines, 
and  establishing  a  kitchen.  Dawn  revealed  the 
wreckage  and  dead  horses  beside  the  road, — but  to  a 
Boche  airplane  there  would  be  no  trace  of  the  four 
guns  crouching  under  their  nests  of  green.  A  half 
hour  later  all  the  men  were  asleep  in  shell-holes.  In 
that  night  they  had  lived  a  hundred  years. 

The  Battery  remained  in  this  position  until  No- 
vember 1.  During  that  time  it  fired  harassing  con- 
centrations of  H.  E.  in  the  Bois  de  Crepion  and  the 
Hazelle  Ravine,  where  the  Germans  were  massed  to 
withstand  our  repeated  stubborn  attacks.  Defensive 
barrages  were  fired  on  the  Belleu  Bois,  Bois  de 
Chenes,  and  Bois  D'Ormont.  We  fired  No.  7  gas 
(poison)  on  the  Crepion  Road. 

To  understand  our  predicament  in  Haumont  Ra- 
vine, an  explanation  is  necessary  of  the  Division's 
mission  at  this  time.  The  Allies,  to  insure  success 
for  the  drive  in  the  Argonne,  must  cause  the  German 
High  Command  to  dissipate  its  reserves  along  the 
vital  gap.  For  this  purpose  many  points  must  be 
savagely  attacked  at  the  same  time  even  with  no 
hope  of  success  or  advance,  merely  to  draw  the  Ger- 
man resistance  away  from  the  victorious  sweep  to- 
wards Sedan.  The  fact  that  these  attacking  troops, 
to  be  fully  successful  in  their  mission,  must  engage 
a  superior  number  of  the  enemy,  the  more  the  bet- 
ter, helps  explain  why  the  Twenty-Sixth  found  itself 


VIEW  OF  FORT  DOUAMONT  TAKEN  FROM  A  BATTERY'S  POSITION.  THE  FORT  IS  MERELY  THE  SLIGHT 
EMINENCE  ON  THE  FURTHEST  RIDGE  TO  THE  LEFT.  IT  WAS  HERE  THAT  THE  I1TH  HOUR  OF  THE 
1ITH    DAY    OF    THE    IITH    MONTH    FOUND    THE     BATTERY    FIRING     ITS    LAST    SHOTS    OF    THE    GREAT    WAR. 


SECOND  VERDUN  POSITION  SHOWING  THIRD  AND  FOURTH  PIECES  IN  POSITION  UNDER 
CAMOUFLAGE.  BARBED  WIRE  ENTANGLEMENTS  RUNNING  DIAGONALLY  IN  FRONT  OF 
PIECES.  SHELL     HOLE     AMMUNITION     PIT     IN     THE     LEFT     FOREGROUND.  OCCUPIED 

OCTOBER    23-NOVEMBER    1 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  185 

battering  forward  against  such  hopeless    odds    be- 
tween October  15  and  31. 

It  is  easy  to  describe  the  purely  physical  happen- 
ings of  the  Battery's  stay  in  this  last  Death  Valley 
position,  but  they  are  not  what  stands  out  in  our 
memories  of  those  days.  The  thing  which  none  who 
were  there  will  ever  forget  is  not  so  easy  to  describe. 
It  was  a  mental  depression  which  no  one  altogether 
escaped.  The  trying  experience  on  the  road  perhaps 
weakened  our  nervous  resistance  more  than  we  real- 
ized, and  undoubtedly  prolonged  lack  of  sleep  and 
dismal  surroundings,  added  to  the  constant  shelling 
and  gassing  in  the  valley,  favored  this  depression 
which  was  universal  in  the  Battery.  The  surround- 
ing were  certainly  bleak :  rusty  barbed-wire  and  shell- 
torn  earth  for  a  foreground,  and  for  a  background, 
blasted  hills  topped  with  gaunt  fringes  of  shell-torn 
trees;  wounded  men  and  battered  ambulances  for- 
ever crawling  along  the  tortured,  mud-swamped  road; 
broken  wagons,  smashed  caissons,  packs,  blankets, 
towels,  toilet  articles,  clothing,  letters,  dead  horses, 
' — everything  trampled  into  the  mud;  the  whole  out- 
look desolate  and  cheerless.  The  valley  at  this  point 
was  a  veritable  gas-pocket,  for  the  poisonous  fumes 
being  heavier  than  air,  rolled  down  from  all  sides  and 
hung  in  the  bottom  eighteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty- 
four.  Being  in  a  salient  we  were  subjected  from  three 
sides  to  a  fire  which  was  at  times  so  close  as  to  de- 
stroy ammunition  piles  and  even  tear  down  the  nets 
from  the  guns.  There  was  no  shelter  near  except  the 
shallow  holes  the  men  could  dig  beside  the  pieces.  The 
result  of  the  whole  thing  seemed  to  be  a  terrible  ner- 


186  BATTERY  A 

vous  tension  which  oppressed  us  and  hung  over  us 
like  some  wide-eyed,  malignant  spirit  growing  more 
insistent  from  day  to  day. 

On  November  1  the  Battery  had  orders  to  pull  out 
of  Death  Valley  and  relieve  the  Ninth  Battery  of  the 
Sixteenth  Regiment  (French)  in  the  Bois  D'Haudro- 
mont.  Profiting  by  the  experience  gained  in  our  last 
fatal  move,  the  limbers  came  up  at  eight  thirty  A.  M. 
in  broad  daylight,  or  in  other  words,  when  the  Ger- 
mans would  least  expect  troops  in  their  right  senses 
to  move.  The  risk  was  that  we  would  be  seen  and 
fired  on,  but  even  so  it  would  have  been  light  so  that 
we  could  have  seen  what  we  were  doing,  whereas  by 
waiting  until  darknejs  we  would  be  almost  sure  to 
fall  under  another  murderous  Boche  concentration 
and  repeat  the  scene  of  our  entrance  into  the  posi- 
tion. By  9  o'clock  the  telephone  lines  were  all  cut  and 
tagged,  the  ammunition  piled  neatly  by  the  road  and 
labeled,  the  kitchen  stuif  loaded  in  a  truck,  and  the 
firing  battery  out  on  the  road  headed  for  the  rear. 
No  time  was  lost  getting  started.  Before  the  last 
of  the  cannoneers  carrying  their  packs  had  walked 
two  hundred  yards  down  the  road,  the  position  was 
caught  under  a  burst  of  fire  which  killed  two  infan- 
trymen passing  in  front  of  our  fresh-piled  ammuni- 
tion. .  .  .  Continuing  through  Bras  and  across  the 
Meuse  the  Battery  pulled  up  at  Charny,  where  they 
had  supper  and  stayed  until  nightfall.  Meanwhile, 
scouts  went  on  ahead  to  become  familiar  with  the 
new  position  to  be  taken  over  from  the  French. 

While  the  guns  had  been  in  Death  Valley,  the 
echelon  situation  had  been  a  unique  one.    The  cais- 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  187 

sons  and  limbers,  ration  cart,  a  dozen  horses,  and  six 
drivers  were  quartered  in  Charny,  a  ruined  town  on 
the  Meuse,  where  the  Regimental  Supply  Company 
was  also  stationed.  The  men  lived  in  cellars.  Charny 
for  us  was  the  "forward  echelon".  The  "rear  eche- 
lon" was  twenty  kilometers  back  in  the  Bois  de  Sar- 
telles  near  the  Baleicourt  railroad.  Here  the  rest  of 
the  drivers  and  horses  and  the  heavy  wagons  led  a 
stupid,  muddy  existence,  making  occasional  sorties  at 
dusk  to  return  at  daybreak  if  they  were  lucky. 

After  supper  on  November  1  the  first  platoon  of 
the  firing  battery  left  Charny,  and  recrossing  the 
Meuse  at  Bras,  took  the  road  for  Haudromont.  After 
five  kilometers  through  strange  country  in  the  grow- 
ing dusk,  they  were  met  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  hill  by 
the  scouts  who  had  gone  ahead  earlier  in  the  day. 
The  guns  were  driven  up  the  hill  over  a  very  steep, 
rough,  uncertain  road  which  required  the  most  skill- 
ful kind  of  driving.  It  was  completely  dark  be- 
fore both  guns  had  been  installed  in  place  of  the  two 
French  guns,  and  the  limbers  sent  back.  Our  two 
pieces  were  laid  in  parallel  to  the  two  remaining 
French  guns,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  night  the  French 
and  American  gun-guards  stood  watch  together.  The 
men  passed  their  first  peaceful  night  since  before 
Death  Valley,  crowded  with  their  newly  found  French 
comrades  in  the  fine,  dry,  roomy  dugouts. 

The  third  and  fourth  pieces  came  up  from  Charny 
next  night,  and  the  last  of  the  French  firing  battery 
departed.  Their  "cinquieme  piece"  or  telephone  de- 
tail was  the  last  to  leave,  as  calls  relative  to  the  move- 
ment of  the  French  batteries  were  coming  through 


188  BATTERY  A 

our  central,  and  it  also  took  time  for  the  French  tele- 
phone men  to  trace  out  all  their  lines  in  company  with 
our  own.  We  all  hated  to  see  the  French  "artilleurs" 
go,  and  felt  lonesome  for  them  for  several  days. 

By  Sunday,  October  3,  the  position  was  all  Amer- 
ican. In  every  way  it  was  the  exact  opposite  of  our 
last  position.  It  was  on  a  high  hill  absolutely  bare,  in 
spite  of  its  name  "Haudromont  Wood,"  dry,  and  away 
from  the  gas.  There  were  deep  dugouts  fitted  with 
bunks,  tables,  benches,  and  even  "sappes"  or  pas- 
sageways deep  into  the  ground  by  which  escape  was 
possible  in  case  the  dugout  should  be  caved  in.  We 
inherited  an  unholy  number  of  rats  in  this  position, 
who  felt  that  they  had  more  right  there  than  we, 
and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  their  convictions  on  this 
point.  Trenches  connected  different  parts  of  the  po- 
sition: gun-pits,  dugouts,  ammunition  racks,  etc.  The 
kitchen  was  perfect.  It  was  in  a  huge,  strong  dug- 
out partly  cut  out  of  the  rock  further  down  the  hill 
on  the  Battery's  right  flank.  It  was  approached  from 
the  guns  by  a  deep  trench,  and  from  the  rear  by  a 
good  road.  Next  door  to  it  was  the  "Grande  Car- 
riere"  inhabited  by  a  French  colonial  outfit.  This  was 
a  huge  quarry  turned  into  a  comfortable  barrack  and 
dressing  station,  perfectly  indestructible,  and  so  hid- 
den by  screens  and  nets  as  to  be  almost  invisible.  The 
French  telephone  central,  "Cesare",  was  hidden  some- 
where deep  in  its  mysterious  rock  passages. 

The  general  appearance  of  the  region  was  startl- 
ing. Never  had  we  seen  evidence  of  such  complete 
and  wholesale  destruction.  In  1914  a  heavy  forest 
had  clothed  all  the  hills  and  valleys,  but  now  not  a 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  189 

stump  was  left.  Every  yard  of  the  sandy  soil  had 
been  upturned  by  a  dozen  shells  as  far  as  eye  could 
see.  But, — this  was  all  a  past  destruction;  what  we 
had  just  left  was  a  very  present  one,  a  fact  that  made 
all  the  difference  to  us. 

It  was  amazing  how  promptly  everyone's  spirits 
revived  in  this  new  atmosphere.  It  was  as  if  a  heavy 
weight  which  was  bearing  us  down  had  suddenly  been 
lifted.  We  had  good  food,  plenty  of  sleep,  perfect 
dugouts,  enough  work,  freedom  from  worry,  proxim- 
ity with  the  ever-cheerful  Frenchmen  in  the  Grande 
Carriere,  and  we  didn't  care  if  the  war  lasted  twenty 
years.  We  were  occasionally  subjected  to  a  shelling 
which  a  year  ago  would  have  seemed  terrible,  but  now 
it  was  a  joke  after  Death  Valley.  On  sunny  days  we 
could  watch  the  German  "heavies"  pounding  Douau- 
mont  a  mile  away,  or  searching  for  our  railroad  guns 
near  Charny.  The  huge  shells  would  roar  over  our 
heads  with  a  noise  like  a  train  of  cars,  and  then  seem 
to  slow  down  and  fall  amid  grinding  brakes,  kicking 
a  stately  black  geyser  of  dirt  and  smoke  two  hun- 
dred feet  into  the  sky.  There  was  also  enough  aerial 
activity  to  keep  us  amused. 

As  November  Eleventh — a  date  as  yet  unborn — 
drew  near,  things  seemed  to  be  speeding  up  for  a  cri- 
sis of  some  sort.  On  the  second  the  Battery  fired  for- 
ty-seven rounds  of  H.  E.  on  the  Fond  de  Vaux  to  dis- 
perse a  possible  Hun  attack. 

On  the  third  and  fourth  extensive  harrassing  was 
done  by  us  with  both  H.  E.  and  gas.  We  fired  a  roll- 
ing barrage  the  evening  of  the  third. 

On  the  fifth  came  the  rumor  that  we  were  to 


190  BATTERY  A 

launch  a  big  attack  and  move  forward  at  once. 
Gloom! 

On  the  sixth  the  rumor  of  a  relief  around  Novem- 
ber 10;  and  the  Boche  shelled  us  for  several  hours, 
cutting  three  telephone  lines. 

The  Seventh  brought  news  that  the  attack  was 
not  to  take  place.  Joy! 

The  next  day  we  heard  from  the  French  that  an 
armistice  would  come  into  effect  at  fifteen  o'clock. 
Immediately  afterwards  we  received  orders  to  pack 
up  and  be  ready  to  move  forward  at  once.  The  rear 
echelons  of  the  entire  Regiment  moved  up  from 
Baleicourt  to  Charny,  a  good  deal  as  a  measuring- 
worm  gathers  up  his  behind  end  under  him  before 
stepping  out  in  front.  A  reconnoisance  party  was 
sent  forward  to  pick  positions.  At  dusk  the  recon- 
naisance  party  was  recalled  and  no  move  took  place. 

The  morning  of  the  next  day,  November  9,  the  at- 
tack started,  but  we  heard  that  the  Infantry  advance 
was  slow.  Nevertheless,  by  nightfall  we  were  all 
packed  up  and  prepared  to  pull  forward  in  the  wake 
of  the  Second  Battalion  which  we  heard  had  already 
passed  the  old  Boche  front  line.  Again  we  did  not 
move.  .  : 

On  the  tenth  five  men  went  away  on  seven-day- 
leave,  the  first  since  the  Division  had  been  in  France. 
This  day  was  particularly  rich  in  rumors.  The  first 
one  was  that  our  failure  to  move  forward  last  night 
was  due  to  the  Second  Battalion's  being  stuck  in  the 
mud  on  the  only  available  road,  but  that  they  had  been 
pulled  out  by  teams  of  our  horses,  and  that  we  were  to 
move  before  midnight.  Groans !    The  second  was  that 


THE  VERDUN  FRONT  191 

the  Kaiser  had  abdicated.  The  next  was  that  our 
"move  is  again  postponed."  The  cannoneers  were 
crazy  at  having  to  pull  the  guns  out  only  to  put  them 
back  again  for  th«  millionth  time  in  five  days. 

The  next  day  was  the  Eleventh.  Before  breakfast 
came  the  most  preposterous  rumor  of  all.  It  seemed 
an  armistice  had  actually  been  signed  and  hostilities 
would  cease  on  the  Western  Front  at  eleven  o'clock. 
This  was  received  in  silence.  Let  people  make  up 
that  sort  of  a  story  if  it  amuses  them.  There  was  in- 
difference also  in  the  "Grande  Carriere."  All  that 
morning  a  heavy  firing  continued  from  the  American 
side.  The  Battery  fired  all  its  harrassing  concentra- 
tions at  long  range.  About  ten  o'clock  the  Major 
called  up  to  say  that  fire  would  cease  at  10:59  by  syn- 
chronized time,  and  to  report  any  violation  by  either 
side.  We  were  incredulous.  We  were  like  the  little 
boy  who  said  "I  don't  believe  in  you,  Santa  Qaus,  but 
come  just  the  same." 

At  10:59  the  Battery  ceased  fire,  and  after  that 
every  one  listened.  Ominous  silence.  Two  minutes 
passed.  Then  came  a  grunt  from  Charny  and  a  lone 
heavy  went  racketing  overhead.  So  this  eleven 
o'clock  stuff  had  been  another  hot  one.  But  hope 
dies  hard,  and  ours  had  been  stirred  if  not  actually 
aroused.  We  kept  listening.  There  were  no  more 
shots,  and  pretty  soon  we  heard  church  bells,  whis- 
tles, and  a  regimental  band  from  the  direction  of 
Verdun.  .  .  . 

The  guns  were  kept  laid  on  the  normal  defensive 
barrage.  The  rocket  and  telephone  guards  remained 
in  their  places.    At  lunch  it  was  remarked  that  some 


192  BATTERY  A 

of  the  more  trusting  spirits  in  the  Battery  had  dis- 
carded their  steel  helmets  and  gas-masks.  By  night- 
fall the  conviction  seemed  to  have  taken  root  that  the 
war  was  over,  for  the  sky  was  alight  with  rockets, 
flares,  Very  lights,  and  bonfires,  while  bells  and  whis- 
tles sounded  in  the  distance.  The  Boche  was  beaten, 
but — our  drivers  hauled  ammunition  all  that  night. 

The  next  three  days  were  spent  tidying  up  the 
position,  sorting  ammunition,  cleaning  the  guns,  etc. 

At  last  our  long  expected  move  took  place,  but  in 
the  opposite  direction.  On  November  14  we  pulled  the 
four  guns  out  of  the  Haudromont  position  and  turned 
our  backs  to  the  Western  Front  for  the  last  time,  still 
perplexed,  but  with  a  dawning  light  of  understanding. 


THE  OLD  FRENCH  "gO"  AT  BERNECOURT.  ONE 
OF  OUR  "CHINESE  BATTERY  •.  EQUIPPED  WITH 
NO  RECOIL  MECHANISM.  LIKE  THE  75.  THE  GUN. 
ON  FIRING.  WOULD  ROLL  BACK  UP  THE  INCLINED 
PLANE  AND  ITS  MUZZLE  WOULD  BANG  DOWN- 
WARDS 


FRENCH     LONG     RANGE     GUN     WHICH     FIRED    OVER    OUR     HEADS 
WHILE    IN    THE    VERDUN    SECTOR 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE 

'T^HE  days  immediately  following  the  armistice 
were  among  the  most  gloomy  in  the  annals  of 
the  Battery.  The  war  was  over;  that  was  the  one 
ray  of  light  on  the  dark  horizon.  Would  the  armis- 
tice endure?  Where  were  we  going?  Russia,  the 
Army  of  Occupation,  home;  which  was  our  destina- 
tion? What  were  we  waiting  for?  Why  was  there 
no  movement?  These  were  the  questions  which  fed 
upon  the  morale  of  the  Battery,  and  reduced  the  men, 
already  exhausted  and  sapped  by  the  horrors  of  the 
last  days  of  the  war,  to  a  state  of  deepest  dejection. 

At  last,  a  part  of  the  uncertainty  was  ended,  for 
on  November  fifteenth,  a  move  was  ordered,  a  move 
not  forward,  but  to  the  area  behind  Verdun.  Bois  de 
Thierville  was  the  first  halt;  not  a  town,  this,  but  a 
rambling  collection  of  Adrian  barracks,  scattered 
about  in  the  deep  woods,  whose  thick  branches,  in 
days  not  long  past,  had  screened  troop  movements 
from  the  watchful  eyes  of  the  Hun  avions  whose 
presence  no  longer  polluted  the  clean  French  skies. 
So  here,  in  the  dense  woods,  the  Battery  assembled, 
the  heavy  wagons  and  caissons  from  the  Baliecourt 
echelon  meeting  the  tired  cannoneers  who,  behind  the 
clanking  75's,  had  hiked  all  the  weary  kilometers  from 
the  Douaumont  position. 

Seen  as  a  whole  for  the  first  time  since  the  hike 
from  St.  Mihiel,  the  Battery  presented  a  depressing 
spectacle;  the  condition  of  both  the  horses  and  the 


194  BATTERY  A 

men  was  worse  than  separate  glimpses  of  the  echelon 
and  the  position  would  have  led  one  to  believe.  The 
men,  worn  down  to  almost  nothing  by  the  last  terrific 
days  around  Verdun,  showed  interest  in  one  thing, 
and  one  thing  only, — sleep.  And  the  horses !  Out  of 
the  one  hundred  and  sixty  odd,  that  a  battery  is  sup- 
posed to  have,  only  sixty  remained;  sixty  gaunt,  fam- 
ished beasts,  underfed  and  overworked.  One  won- 
dered how  a  move  of  even  a  few  kilometers  could  be 
accomplished  with  such  animals.  It  seemed  a  mathe- 
matical impossibility  to  move  four  guns,  eight  cais- 
sons, two  park  wagons,  a  fourgon,  a  rolling  kitchen, 
and  a  ration  cart  with  sixty  horses. 

For  one  brief  night  the  Battery  rested  in  the  Thier- 
ville  woods,  and  next  morning's  sun  found  the  billet- 
ing parties  on  the  road  again,  headed  for  Seraucourt, 
a  few  kilometers  from  the  Souilly  railhead. 

A  smear  of  red  roofs,  a  huddle  of  white  houses 
heaped  beside  the  straight  white  road,  that  was 
Seraucourt,  a  shivering,  poverty  stricken  town  where 
a  handful  of  old  women  and  older  men  eked  out  a 
miserable  existence.  From  the  Town  Major,  an  af- 
fable, gray-headed  old  infantry  sergeant,  a  reforme 
of  1916,  we  learned  Seraucourt's  story.  In  '14,  just 
before  the  first  Marne  battle,  the  Boche  held  the 
town ;  not  long  enough,  apparently,  to  do  a  great  deal 
of  visible  damage,  for  the  houses  were  for  the  most 
part  in  fairly  presentable  shape;  but,  yet,  with  the 
true  Teutonic  benevolence,  he  had  paralyzed  the  ex- 
istence of  the  inhabitants;  for  when  he  departed,  he 
took  with  him  all  the  livestock  of  the  town,  not  to 
ynention  the  linen^  th^  clocks,    even    the    tableware 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  195 

which  the  townspeople  possessed.  After  this  mortal 
blow,  the  villagers  scattered  to  the  four  corners  of 
France,  and  lived  the  pitiable  life  of  refugees,  till  the 
fall  of  1918  when  a  few  of  the  oldest  inhabitants  re- 
turned, preferring  to  face  the  hardships  of  life  in 
their  old  homes  in  the  advanced  zones  than  to  finish 
their  obscure  careers  among  strangers.  We  also 
learned  later,  though  not  from  the  Town  Major,  that 
the  departure  of  the  kindly  Hun  had  been  at  the  ur- 
gent request  of  a  battalion  of  French  Territorials, 
and  that  a  score  of  the  unwelcome  guests  lie  in  a  tiny- 
cemetery  behind  the  town. 

As  a  billeting  town  Seraucourt  left  much  to  be 
desired.  Quarters  for  men  and  horses  were  hard  to 
find;  a  dozen  men  in  a  loft  over  Mme.  Goulet's,  a  sec- 
tion of  horses  in  her  shed;  thirty  men  in  the  empty 
house  across  the  street,  and  a  few  single-mounts  in 
the  tiny  stable  below,  and  so  on. 

Ten  o'clock  at  night,  a  bitter  wind  sweeps  the  wide 
white  road,  the  moon  shimmers  down  on  the  red 
roofs,  casting  a  frigid  frosty  radiance  over  the  village; 
a  rumbling  and  clanking  which  grows  and  swells, 
fills  the  wide  street;  tired  voices  battle  against  the 
high  wind  and  the  Battery  is  here.  A  hasty  supper 
is  prepared  and  the  men,  cheered  by  the  prospect  of 
an  early  start  on  the  following  morning,  stumble  into 
their  billet  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

Morning,  bright  and  gusty,  and  the  Battery  is  on 
the  road  again,  the  drivers  hunched  forward  in  their 
saddles  to  lessen  the  angry  buffets  of  the  wind,  while 
the  cannoneers,  "sac-a-dos",  plod  stolidly  along,  shel- 
tering themselves  as  best  they  can  in  the  lee  of  the 


196  BATTERY  A 

caissons.    Noon,  and  the  destination  is  reached. 

Ville-devant-Belrain,  our  new  home,  presents  a 
cheerful  appearance,  after  the  ghastly  bareness  of 
Seraucourt.  Adrian  barracks  with  bunks  for  the 
men,  sheds  for  the  horses.  What  luxury!  Word  is 
passed  around  that  we  shall  rest  here  for  at  least 
three  days  and  with  a  sigh  of  gratification,  we  set 
out  to  explore  the  town.  No  difficult  task  this,  for 
Ville-devant-Belrain  is  but  one  degree  larger  than 
Seraucourt.  There  is  a  church,  whose  tower  over- 
shadows the  whole  town;  there  are  two  stores  where 
one  may  purchase  such  luxuries  as  rather  doubtful 
champagne,  beer,  dried  figs,  and  even,  it  is  rumored, 
that  rarest  of  delicacies,  condensed  milk.  Decidedly, 
we  are  well  "set"  here. 

Let  not  the  uninitiated  be  deceived  by  the  sonor- 
ous name,  Ville-devant-Belrain,  suggestive  of  ancient, 
massive  buildings,  of  age,  mellowed  cathedrals,  and 
rich  stained  glass.  The  smaller  and  poorer  the  French 
town,  the  more  imposing  and  longer  the  name.  Let 
the  big  cities  be  content  with  brief,  uncommunicative 
monosyllabic  titles:  Tours,  Toul,  Metz,  Nice,  those 
are  all  very  well  for  your  metropolis,  but  your  tiny 
isolated  hamlet  must  rejoice  under  some  ponderous, 
hyphenated  name.  Jouy-sous-les-Cotes,  Mandres-aux- 
quartre-Tours :  these  are  the  appellations  for  your 
one-streeted  villages.  For^  instance,  a  smaller  town 
than  Ville-devant-Belrain,  and  in  the  same  vicinity, 
would  undoubtedly  weight  itself  down  with  some 
such  tongue-tripping  name  as  St.  Mathilde-les-belle- 
sous-Ville-devant-Belrain. 

Comfortably  billeted  in  the  Adrians,  with  the  pros- 


( 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  197 

pect  of  a  rest,  the  Battery  prepares  to  enjoy  life. 
Whereupon,  Dame  Rumor  with  a  joyous  whoop,  ap- 
pears in  our  midst  to  shatter  peace  of  mind  and  con- 
tentment which  is  gradually  settling  down  over  the 
Battery.  Look  inside  the  Adrian  at  the  edge  of  town ; 
ten  or  a  dozen  men  are  clustered  around  an  old  dis- 
mantled forge  which  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  dirt 
floor;  one  energetic  young  man  pumps  at  the  bel- 
lows, while  another  pitches  slabs  of  wood,  (salvaged 
from  the  bunks  of  the  absentees)  into  the  glowing 
fire;  the  bellows  wheeze  protestingly,  shooting  up  a 
tornado  of  sparks  from  the  fire  (from  time  to  time), 
to  the  great  annoyance  of  the  clustering  group  about 
it,  as  though  out  of  spite  at  not  being  left  alone.  The 
topic  of  conversation  is  the  only  topic  which  interests 
us  at  present. 

"We'll  be  going  home  'toot-sweet' ",  says  a  me- 
chanic. "The  divisional  M.  P.'s  are  at  St.  Nazaire 
now ;  I  know  that  for  a  fact." 

"What  does  that  prove?"  asks  a  signaller. 

"We're  sailing  from  Bordeaux;  I  heard  Major 
Blank  say  so."    Gloom  begins  to  settle  over  the  group. 

"Perhaps  they'll  split  the  Division  and  send  part 
from  St.  Nazaire  and  part  from  Bordeaux,"  hazards 
someone.  Gloom  starts  to  lift ;  conversation  becomes 
animated  once  more. 

The  door  opens  and  in  steps  an  O.  D.  clad  figure; 
on  his  left  shoulder  is  an  horizon-blue  Y.  D.,  the  fore- 
runner of  present  divisional  insignia;  on  his  arm  is  a 
brassard  bearing  the  all-powerful  letters,  M.  P.  Bang 
goes  the  mechanic's  rumor. 

"Well,  boys,"  says  the  M.  P.  cheerfully,  "we're 


198  BATTERY  A 

going  up  to  Germany;  the  Division  entrains  the  first 
of  next  week."  Crash  go  all  the  inflated  hopes;  the 
M.  P.,  aggressively  cheerful,  warms  his  hands  at  the 
fire  and  beams  on  the  dejected  group.  Sundry  fiery 
spirits  contemplate  murder, — "justifiable  homicide," 
surely.  A  moment  later  in  rushes  an  excited  youth 
with  still  another  rumor. 

"The  Ambulance  companies  have  turned  in  their 
ambulances  and  the  Ammunition  Train  are  going  to 
get  rid  of  their  trucks,"  is  his  news.  Up  go  the  spirits 
again,  undaunted  even  by  the  pessimistic  opinion  of  a 
"joy  killer."  "Well,  they  won't  need  ambulances  or 
motor-trucks  in  the  Army  of  Occupation."  And  so 
it  goes,  up  and  down,  from  joy  to  gloom. 

Mid-afternoon,  bright  and  sunny;  we  are  cleaning 
equipment  in  the  gun-park.  The  rumors  happen  to 
be  good,  a  week's  sojourn  in  Ville-devant-Belrain  be- 
ing the  latest,  and  everyone  is  in  good  spirits.  Sud- 
denly the  peaceful  air  is  shattered  by  the  top-ser- 
geant's whistle ;  "We  move  in  half  an  hour."  We  has- 
tily and  profanely  pack  up  and  soon  form  in  column 
of  squads  on  the  road.  Everyone  carries  a  pack,  save 
the  lucky  few,  detailed  to  drive  the  heavy  wagons. 

At  last  we  start,  wondering  why  we  didn't  sal- 
vage that  extra  blanket  for  the  sake  of  a  lighter  pack. 
The  mm  sets,  the  stars  come  out,  hesitatingly,  the 
moon  rises,  and  still  on  we  go.  What  a  crime!  A 
night  hike,  a  relic  of  the  dark  ages  when  the  Hun 
was  still  on  the  rampage!  Who  is  responsible  for 
this?  "Don't  those  birds  know  that  the  war  is  over?" 
groans  a  cannoneer  as  he  shifts  his  pack  from  one 
aching  shoulder  to  the  other.    "No,"  is  the  immediate 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  199 

response.  "Those  mopes  in  the  S.  O.  S.  never  knew 
that  there  was  a  war."  Ten  o'clock  and  we  march 
into  a  town,  turn  off  the  main  road  into  a  steep  alley 
and  finally  halt  in  a  huge,  three-sided  enclosure,  a 
large  farm,  we  decide,  but  it  is  too  dark  to  see.  The 
"soup-gun"  trundles  past  us,  leaving  a  trail  of  glow- 
ing sparks  behind  and  halts  in  the  shadow  of  the 
buildings.  "Fall  out,  mess  in  twenty  minutes,"  calls 
the  "top",  and  amid  a  cheerful  clattering  of  mess- 
kits,  we  rush  off  to  our  billets.  The  mess-line  forms, 
moves  and  vanishes;  lights  appear  in  the  billets;  half 
an  hour  and  the  Battery  is  asleep,  dreaming  of  Brest, 
St.  Nazaire  and  Boston. 

Four  days  we  stayed  in  this  new  home  of  ours, 
Erize-St.  Dizier  by  name,  four  days  of  rest  and  rumor 
mongering.  There  were  three  stores  and  a  cafe 
where  the  wants  of  the  inner  man  might  be  satisfied 
with  such  epicurean  delights  as  grapes,  cheese,  white 
wine,  and  an  odd  kind  of  cake  which  looked  like  chew- 
ing-tobacco and  tasted  faintly  of  shoe-dubbin.  And 
one  day  the  guns  and  caissons  were  mysteriously 
spirited  away  to  a  nearby  railhead;  on  top  of  this, 
we  turned  in  all  our  horses,  save  twelve.  All  the  op- 
timists of  the  Battery  took  heart  again,  while  the 
pessimists  sought  cover  in  dark  corners.  But  the  day 
before  we  left,  the  pessimists  again  came  into  their 
own;  for  the  Chicago  Tribune  contained  a  list  of  the 
divisions  making  up  the  Army  of  Occupation,  and 
with  sinking  hearts  we  read  "...  will  be  composed 
of  the  1st,  2nd,  3rd,  4th,  5th,  26th,  28th  ..." 

A  march  of  reasonable  length  on  a  pleasant  morn- 
ing is  no  disagreeable  task;  in  fairly  good  spirits  we 


200  BATTERY  A 

tramped  on,  the  next  day,  uphill  and  down,  passing 
the  villages  of  Gery,  Loisey  and  Culey  and  at  last, 
as  we  mounted  a  long  steep  rise,  the  towers  of  Guer- 
pont  and  Tronville  appeared  on  our  left.  We  were  on 
familiar  ground  now,  for  it  was  at  Tronville  that  we 
detrained  on  our  way  to  St.  Mihiel ;  in  front  of  us  lay 
Tannois  where  we  had  spent  one  night  on  our  way  to 
the  drive.  Guerpont  was  our  objective,  and  noon 
found  the  Battery  busily  settling  down  in  its  new 
home,  and  looking  hopefully  in  the  direction  of  the 
kitchen. 

Guerpont  was  by  far  the  largest  town  that  we  had 
seen  for  months.  It  boasted  three  streets,  a  huge 
church  and  numerous  cafes  and  stores,  all  the  latter 
in  a  fairly  prosperous  condition. 

Our  stay  there  was  the  pleasantest  period  of  life 
that  the  Battery  had  experienced  for  a  long  time. 
We  drilled  a  little  and  rested  a  great  deal,  our  chief 
task  being  to  make  up  the  back  arrears  of  sleep  lost 
in  the  past  nine  months. 

Thanksgiving  time  came  with  all  its  memories  of 
New  England  and  bygone  feasts  at  home,  so  the  Bat- 
tery set  out  to  make  this  Thanksgiving  one  that 
would  long  be  remembered.  Trips  were  made  to 
Toul,  to  Bar-le-Duc,  even  to  Nancy,  in  search  of  sup- 
plies for  the  feast  that  was  to  come.  Soon  the  hum- 
ble cook  shack  began  to  resemble  a  country  store; 
turkeys  hung  from  the  rafters,  dangling  like  im- 
mense pendulums  over  the  busy  cooks;  barrels  of 
vegetables  lurked  in  dark  corners,  while  spices  and 
flavoring  of  all  kinds  littered  the  shelves.  The  great 
day  came. 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  201 

What  a  feast  it  was!  Under  the  direction  of 
George  Young,  himself  a  highly  skilled  cook,  the 
other  cuisine  artists  and  K.  P.'s  had  labored  early  and 
late,  and  at  two  o'clock  were  ready  to  serve  the  fol- 
lowing menu: 

Vegetable  soup 
Roast  turkey        Baked  potatoes        Brussels  sprouts 

Cranberry  sauce 

Bread  and  jam  Raisin  pie  Apple  pie 

Beer       Hot  Chocolate 

Nuts  Apples  Candy 

No  imposing  bill-of-fare  for  a  camp  in  the  States, 
perhaps,  but  to  prepare  that  dinner  in  a  small  French 
town,  with  limited  facilities,  was  no  light  undertak- 
ing. High  credit  is  due  to  George  Young  and  his 
apostles  for  the  great  effort  they  made  that  the 
"boys"  might  enjoy  their  Thanksgiving  day  as  nearly 
as  possible  as  they  did  in  the  States. 

Life  flowed  along  smoothly  enough  in  the  days 
following  Thanksgiving.  There  was  a  dearth  of  ru- 
mors, and  the  few  that  did  come  in  were  good.  The 
morale  of  the  whole  Regiment  was  on  a  higher  level 
than  it  had  been  for  a  long  time.  The  only  items  of 
interest  in  this  period  were  the  departure  of  a  dozen 
men  on  furloughs  and  the  first  appearance  of  the  of- 
ficial divisional  insignia,  the  dark  blue  YD  on  the  OD 
diamond. 

Finally,  orders  came  to  move,  not  forward,  but 
toward  the  front  again.  Despite  the  reassuring  words 
of  the  Colonel,  a  cold  horror  gripped  everyone,  until 
it  was  discovered  the  move  was  only  some  six  kilo- 
meters to  the  town  of  Gery,  through  which  we  passed 


202  BATTERY  A 

on  our  hike  from  Erize-St.  Dizier.  Still  it  was  an- 
noying to  move;  we  were  comfortably  off  at  Guer- 
pont,  living  on  excellent  terms  with  the  inhabitants, 
and  this  meant  getting  used  to  new  accommodations 
and  environment,  and  a  lengthening  of  our  eventual 
hike  to  the  Tronville  rail-head.  Decidedly  this  move 
was  a  nuisance.  But  weather  favored  us,  and  we 
tramped  away  under  a  bright  sun,  with  many  a  long- 
ing, backward  glance  at  Guerpont  and  the  corner 
cafe.  Over  the  hills  we  went,  retracing  our  former 
hike  till  at  last  we  reached  Gery.  Lined  up  in  the  one 
street  which  Gery  boasted,  the  Battery  stared  in  apa- 
thetic disapproval  at  the  poverty-stricken  houses, 
the  omnipresent  mud  and  the  manure  piles,  noting 
with  disappointment  the  absence  of  cafes  and  stores, 
and  speculating  coldly  on  the  probable  delapidation 
of  the  billets.  The  cooks  working  about  the  soup- 
gun  set  up  a  half-hearted  clatter  of  knives  and  spoons 
but  it  lacked  conviction,  and  we  crept  dismally  away 
to  our  billets. 

Life  in  Gery  was  for  a  while  as  dismal  as  the 
town.'s  appearance  seemed  to  predict.  It  rained  inces- 
santly, the  inhabitants  were  cold  and  suspicious,  and 
someone  higher  up  apparently  went  crazy  and  sen- 
tenced us  to  long  hours  of  foot-drill.  As  to  the  inhab- 
itants, they  were  soon  won  over,  when  they  discov- 
ered that  we  did  not  steal  their  poultry,  break  their 
windows,  or  disturb  their  ancestral  manure  piles. 
Their  hostile  attitude  was  explained  by  the  fact  that 
the  American  draftees  who  had  occupied  Gery  be- 
fore us  had  been  "pas  gentil."  We,  on  the  contrary, 
helped  improve  the  town  by  cleaning  the  streets  and 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  203 

performing  sundry  tasks  which  the  villagers,  owing 
to  the  absence  of  their  young  men,  could  not  carry 
out.  So  one  annoyance  was  removed,  but  rain  and 
foot-drill  continued  and  we  had  yet  to  discover  a 
more  uncongenial  occupation  than  doing  "squads 
right"  in  deep  mud. 

Monotony  was  broken  from  time  to  time  by  such 
amusements  as  a  Brigade  review  which  gave  rise  to 
a  horde  of  rumors  of  all  sorts  and  descriptions,  a  hike 
to  the  Tronville  gun  park  where  we  indulged  in  a 
frenzied  harness  cleaning  bee,  and  practice  reviews 
and  guard-mounts.  Despite  all  these  inspiring  per- 
formances, time  hung  heavily  on  our  hands,  and  bad 
rumors,  oozing  in  from  all  quarters,  lowered  our 
spirits  till  we  simply  moped  from  day  to  day,  plough- 
ing indifferently  through  the  all-pervading  mud  to 
meals,  to  drill,  to  bed.  Squads  right,  squads  left,  on 
right  into  line,  O'Grady  says  "left  face",  O'Grady 
says  "about  face",  and  so  it  went. 

Orders  to  move  came  unexpectedly,  so  unexpect- 
edly that  many  refused  to  believe  their  authenticity, 
asserting  that  this  was  merely  a  new  form  of  spread- 
ing rumors.  Most  of  us  merely  waited,  the  general 
attitude  being  "Don't  believe  a  damn  thing  till  you 
see  it  happen."  Moving  to  the  railhead  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true  after  all  these  weeks  of  hiking  and 
waiting  and  hiking.  Just  to  reassure  us  that  we  were 
still  in  the  army,  orders  were  changed  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, and  instead  of  entraining  at  Tronville,  we  were 
to  go  to  Ligny-en-Barrois,  four  kilometers  farther 
on,  making  a  hike  of  ten  kilometers  instead  of  six. 

Guerpont  with  all  its  pleasant  memories  behind 


204  BATTERY  A 

US,  we  push  on,  wondering  where  we  halt,  who  is  set- 
ting such  a  fast  pace,  and  why  we  didn't  roll  our 
packs  differently.  Tronville  and  a  halt  at  last !  With 
sighs  of  gratification  we  sink  down  onto  the  low 
curbstone  (yes,  Tronville  has  sidewalks)  and  produce 
cigarettes  from  invisible  sources.  The  whistle  blows 
(an  unbelievably  short  ten  minutes),  and  with  much 
grunting  and  shifting  of  packs,  we  fall  in  and  march 
off.  Ligny  lies  ahead  of  us,  framed  by  the  poplars 
bordering  the  straight  white  road  which  flows  like 
a  broad  ribbon  into  the  heart  of  the  town.  On,  on 
we  go,  shifting  our  packs  this  way  and  that,  won- 
dering if  there  ever  was  such  a  long  four  kilometers, 
while  Ligny  seems  to  recede  at  each  step,  unattain- 
able as  a  "Y"  hut  in  the  Zone  of  Advance. 

At  last  the  buildings  close  in  on  either  side  of  us 
and,  at  a  rapid  pace,  we  surge  up  a  side  street  and  in 
a  few  moments  emerge  on  the  loading  platform  of 
the  Ligny  station.  The  trains  are  waiting  for  us, 
and  without  undue  delay  we  scramble  on  board.  Get- 
ting settled  in  a  "40  Hommes,  8  Chevaux"  box-car  is 
an  art.  We  are,  however,  well  acclimated  to  this 
method  of  travel  and  in  a  twinkling,  equipment  is 
slung  from  nails  and  hooks  in  the  sides  and  roof  of 
the  car,  and  the  happy  travellers  are  in  an  inextricable 
tangle  of  legs  and  arms  in  the  straw  below.  After 
gloomily  speculating  on  the  probability  of  the  car 
having  a  flat  wheel,  we  lose  no  time  in  getting  to 
sleep.  A  rattle,  a  rumble,  an  effeminate  shriek  from 
the  engine  and  we  are  off,  the  equipment  swinging 
precariously  over  the  heads  of  the  unconscious 
sleepers. 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  205 

Morning  in  a  box  car  is  not  an  enlivening  scene. 
Everyone  is  cold,  numb,  cramped  and  out-of-sorts. 
Some  misguided  enthusiast  reaches  for  his  pack,  let- 
ting it  fall  with  a  crash  upon  a  recumbent  comrade 
fortunate  enough  to  be  still  asleep.  Profanity  and 
apologies  ensue  and  quiet  reigns  once  more.  We 
open  the  car  doors  and  the  three  lucky  enough  to  be 
in  the  strategic  position,  swring  their  legs  out  of  the 
car,  in  defiance  of  regulations,  and  contemplate  the 
passing  panorama  as  they  meditatively  consume  that 
inspiring  breakfast-food,  canned  roast  beef.  At  noon 
the  train  slackens  its  speed,  noses  hesitatingly  along, 
and  finally  comes  to  a  bumpy  halt.  The  engine  hoots 
fiercely,  but  this  is  only  a  bluff — then  comes  a  long, 
plaintive  wail,  a  clear  admission  of  defeat  on  the  part 
of  the  engine.  We  start  again,  only  to  come  to  a 
sudden  crashing  stop.  We  slide  gently  backwards. 
This  manoeuvre  is  repeated  until  we  jolt  along  by  a 
broad  ramp  and  halt.  There  is  a  feeling  of  finality 
about  this  stop,  and  the  occupants  of  the  car,  disen- 
tangling themselves,  struggle  to  their  feet  again  and 
crowd  to  the  doors.  "All  out"  is  the  command,  and 
we  jump  out  to  the  ramp,  dragging  our  packs  after 
us.  The  guns  are  unloaded  and  pushed  with  immense 
labor  into  a  muddy  field  near  the  ramp;  we  climb  un- 
der our  packs  again  and  off  we  go. 

As  we  march  along,  we  survey  the  road  ahead  of 
us  with  growing  disfavor ;  a  road  of  rare  beauty  from 
artists'  standpoint,  no  doubt,  but  to  the  soldier's  eye 
it  presents  too  many  ups  and  downs  to  be  quite  satis- 
factory. We  pass  through  two  or  three  villages  and 
note  with  approbation  that,  although  small,  they  all 


206  BATTERY  A 

contain  well-stocked  stores  and  hospitable  looking 
cafes.  A  wagon  load  of  wine  passes  us  and  is  greeted 
with  affection;  spirits  rise  perceptibly.  Going  into  a 
"good  sector"  evidently.  Still,  these  hills  annoy  us, 
and  it  is  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  we  emerge  on  a 
long  stretch  of  level  road.  Three  villages  lie  ahead 
of  us,  and  one,  of  no  inconsiderable  size  is  perched  on 
a  high  hill  at  our  left.  Varennes,  we  are  told,  is  the 
name  of  our  new  billet,  and  with  a  thrill  of  joy,  we 
see  on  a  guide  post  "Varennes-sous-les-Cotes,  2  kilo- 
meters." Our  joy  is  short  lived,  however,  for  some 
better-informed  person  announces  that  Varennes  sur 
Amance  is  our  destination.  A  shuddering  fear  grows 
into  a  sickening  certainty  as  we  pass  through  Va- 
rennes-sous-les-Cotes  and  swing  off  to  the  left, 
headed  straight  for  that  awe-inspiring  hill.  We  have 
come  fifteen  long  kilometers  already,  we  are  fagged 
out  now,  and  there  is  that  long-steep  hill,  a  good  two- 
kilometer  climb  before  us.  Up  we  go,  through  gath- 
ering dusk,  panting  and  puffing;  a  last  heart-break- 
ing grade,  and  we  halt.    We  are  in  the  town. 

A  brilliantly  lighted  cafe  looms  up  in  front  of  us, 
a  large  church  lifts  its  slender  spire  off  to  the  left, 
while  lights  glow  hospitably  in  the  houses  around  us. 
Surely  "A"  Battery  is  not  billeted  here!  Why,  this 
is  a  veritable  metropolis,  eight  hundred  people  at 
least!  None  the  less,  it  is  true;  this  is  our  billet.  And 
shouldering  our  packs  again,  we  hunch  stiffly  down 
the  street  and  are  assigned  our  billets.  And  good 
billets  they  were.  All  the  sections  were  assigned  to 
vacant  houses,  while  the  Special  Detail  drew  one  fully 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  207 

furnished.  We  lighted  fires  in  our  new  fireplaces  and 
settled  down. 

The  first  few  days  of  our  stay  at  Varennes  were 
spent  in  a  thorough  exploration  of  the  town  and  all 
its  resources.  Our  appreciation  grew  with  each  new 
discovery.  Little  luxuries,  such  as  jam,  chocolate, 
condensed  milk,  might  be  had  in  abundance;  at  such 
a  house,  it  was  whispered,  one  might  buy  fresh  milk, 
while  farther  down  the  street  good  rooms  were  to 
rent. 

Here  began  a  new  phase  in  the  life  of  the  Battery, 
that  wonderful  though  expensive  system  known  as 
"living  out."  The  process  was  simple;  one  hired  a 
room,  containing  usually  a  bed  and  a  tiny  fireplace; 
one's  hostess  took  care  of  the  room  and  furnished  bed 
clothes ;  for  all  this,  one  paid  the  standard  rate  of  one 
franc  per  night.  So,  little  by  little,  men  began  to  dis- 
appear from  their  billets,  showing  themselves  only  at 
formations  and  mess,  lurking  during  their  leisure 
hours  in  their  hidden  fastnesses,  immune  from  sudden 
details  and  inspections. 

The  people  of  Varennes  we  found  to  be  hospita- 
ble and  friendly,  an  "entente  cordiale"  being  soon  es- 
tablished. The  lucky  member  of  the  Battery  who 
lived  out  was  in  most  cases  adopted  outright  by  the 
family  with  whom  he  lodged,  while  friendships  with 
this  neighbor  and  that  sprang  with  amazing  rapidity. 
Truly  this  was  a  "good  sector." 

Christmas  Eve,  1918,  was  a  memorable  night.  The 
Battery  had  organized  a  more  or  less  formal  vaude- 
ville entertainment,  and  the  Mairie,  "Town  Hall",  had 
been  secured  for  a  theatre.    In  consenting  to  the  use 


208  BATTERY  A 

of  the  hall,  the  mayor  had  asked  if  the  show  might 
not  be  put  on  one  night  for  the  townspeople,  as  they 
had  no  other  entertainment  of  any  sort  since  that 
black  August  in  1914.  When  one  read  in  the  Ameri- 
can papers  of  bazaars,  fairs  and  entertainments  tak- 
ing place  in  every  town  in  New  England,  it  was  hard 
to  grasp  the  fact  that  since  1914  these  people  had  put 
aside  every  form  of  amusement  and  devoted  them- 
selves solely  to  one  purpose — the  war.  It  would  have 
taken  a  harder  heart  than  the  Battery's  to  have  re- 
fused such  a  request;  Christmas  Eve  was  set  as  the 
night  for  the  townspeople  and  the  tidings  were  pub- 
lished to  the  village  by  the  town-crier.  The  town  was 
in  a  turmoil.  A  theatrical  production  by  the  Ameri- 
cans— this  would  be  a  Christmas  for  the  people  of 
Varennes  to  talk  about  for  years  to  come. 

The  great  night  came,  and  the  townspeople, 
decked  out  in  their  Sunday  best,  which  in  many  cases 
had  not  seen  the  light  of  day  for  four  long  years, 
trooped  to  the  Mairie.  All  Varennes  was  present, 
with  scattering  representatives  from  nearby  towns, 
and  seated  in  the  gaily  decorated  hall  of  the  Mairie, 
they  waited  eagerly  for  the  show  to  start.  It  was 
not  a  very  ambitious  production,  but  very  well  done 
in  view  of  the  short  time  which  was  devoted  to  prep- 
aration. There  were  singing  and  dancing  acts,  an 
exhibition  of  banjo  playing,  a  tumbling  act,  a  comic 
song  with  a  beautifully  trained  chorus,  all  of  which 
roused  the  crowd  to  the  highest  pitch  of  enjoyment. 
We  could  not  have  found  a  more  appreciative  audi- 
ence for  an  opening  night ;  Everyone  in  the  hall,  from 
the  mayor  himself  to  the  sergeant  of  the  local  gen- 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  209 

darmes,  was  loud  in  expressing  delight  at  the  whole 
proceedure.  An  entertainment  given  for  them,  for 
their  own  amusement  by  the  Americans !  "Tiens,  que 
*c'est  gentil,  ca!"  And  the  session  ended  in  a  gale  of 
cordiality. 

Christmas  day  dawned,  gray  and  cold,  with  a  bit- 
ing wind  whipping  down  the  long  main  street.  After 
a  hasty  breakfast,  the  finishing  touches  were  put  on 
policing,  the  billets  reduced  to  a  state  of  chilly  per- 
fection, and  each  section  fell  in  in  front  of  its  "loge- 
ment"  to  wait  for  the  President  to  come  by,  as  sched- 
uled in  orders. 

We  waited.  Noon  came.  The  hour  for  our  long- 
anticipated  Christmas  dinner  arrived,  and  still  no 
President.  The  wind  reduced  us  to  a  state  of  icy  in- 
difference.   And  we  waited. 

Finally,  at  two  o'clock,  word  was  received  that  the 
President  would  not  visit  Varennes,  and  we  were  dis- 
missed, after  standing  for  nearly  four  mortal  hours 
in  the  biting  wind. 

Owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  our  dinner  was 
a  mixed  up,  ill-served  affair,  and  it  was  with  a  decided 
sense  of  relief  that  we  finally  washed  our  mess-kits 
and  settled  down  to  enjoy  what  was  left  of  the  after- 
noon. Evening  brought  forth  a  repetition  of  the  show 
of  the  previous  night,  staged  this  time  for  the  especial 
benefit  of  the  Battery,  though  a  few  French  families 
who  had  not  been  present  at  the  previous  perform- 
ance were  invited.    And  so  our  Christmas  ended. 

A  tremendous  enthusiasm  for  foot-drill  on  the 
part  of  the  powers  that  be  ushered  in  the  New  Year. 
We  did  squads  right  and  squads  left  and  similar  brae- 


210  BATTERY  A 

ing  manoeuvers  in  the  muddy  fields  about  Varennes. 
This  irritation  was  partially  oflfset  by  a  persistent 
rumor  that  we  would  soon  entrain  for  a  mysterious 
place  known  as  "the  Le  Mans  Area"  where,  said 
friend  Rumor,  all  troops  were  sent  prior  to  embarka- 
tion. This  rumor  was  strengthened  by  gradual  issues 
of  new  equipment  and  frenzied  activities  on  the  part 
of  the  "de-cootie-izer"  as  the  steam-ovens,  in  which 
clothes  were  disinfected,  were  known. 

Then  football  started  and  foot-drill  was  indulged 
in  during  the  long,  gray  mornings  only.  When  the 
exhausted  players,  plastered  from  head  to  foot  with 
liquid  mud,  would  limp  down  the  main  street  of  Va- 
rennes, the  townspeople  would  rush  to  their  doors  in 
amazement.    Surely,  the  Americans  were  mad ! 

One  cold,  gusty  morning  as  we  fell  in  for  reveille 
at  the  grisly  hour  of  6.15,  the  Captain  was  seen  to 
take  his  place  before  the  Battery,  carrying  a  great 
hand-full  of  papers.  These  he  read  aloud,  while  the 
Battery  gasped  and  wondered.  Could  we  believe  our 
ears  1  Yes,  we  were  ordered  back  to  the  States,  that 
land  where  there  was  no  mud  and  where  people  spoke 
intelligibly — ordered  Home ! 

We  scattered  to  our  billets  to  discuss  the  great 
news.  True,  no  date  had  been  set,  but  soon  Rumor 
set  that  aright.  We  would  probably  leave  Varennes 
by  January  15,  spend  some  ten  days  in  the  "Le  Mans 
Area"  and  then  embark  at  Brest,  reaching  Boston  by 
the  eighth  of  February  at  the  very  latest.  So  said 
friend  Rumor.  The  one  dark  spot  that  we  could  see 
)yas  that  long,  long-  hike  to  La  Ferte  to  entrain. 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  211 

"Still,"  said  the  pessimists,  "the  order  might  be  can- 
celled"— which  was  quite  possible. 

We  settled  down  to  wait,  struggling  through  our 
mornings  of  foot-drill  as  leisurely  as  possible  and 
scientifically  "burning  the  bush"  in  the  afternoons. 
In  the  evenings  we  gathered  around  the  fires  in  our 
billets  and  discussed  the  rumors  of  the  day,  or  would 
dismally  ponder  over  the  recently  received  news  of 
National  Prohibition. 

A  football  game  with  C  Battery  broke  the  monot- 
ony for  a  while.  Despite  a  large  sum  of  money  wag- 
ered with  the  sporting  element  of  C,  the  Battery  lost, 
6-0,  in  a  desperately  foughfgame.  Again  the  people 
of  Varennes  murmured:  "Quel  horreur!"  as  the  two 
teams  splashed  about  in  the  muddy  pasture,  and  won- 
dered what  punishment  forced  the  Americans  to  so 
torment  themselves. 

The  glorious  day  arrived  when  orders  for  de- 
parture were  received,  and  we  set  about  saying  fare- 
well to  our  French  friends  and  getting  our  equipment 
ready.  But,  observe  what  happens.  It  is  the  night 
of  January  16;  (we  are  ordered  to  depart  on  the 
17th.  Several  members  of  the  "Jiks"  are  enjoying  a 
farewell  dinner  with  the  Garnier's  who  live  next  door 
to  their  billet.  The  air  is  thick  with  polite  speeches 
expressing  regret  at  leaving  and  promising  to  write 
when  the  destination  is  reached.  A  knock  is  heard  at 
the  door;  a  neighbor  has  come  to  tell  Madame  Gar- 
nier  the  news  "The  Americans  are  not  to  leave  till 
January  25;  their  orders  are  changed."  Madame 
Garnier  beams.  The  "Jiks"  try  to  appear  agreeably 
surprised  at  the  prospect  of  a  delay  in  the  movement 


2)2  BATTERY  A 

home,  but  it  is  a  failure,  and  the  party  soon  breaks 
up.  "There  ain't  no  word  bad  enough  to  express  it." 
And  gloomily  we  take  up  the  old  routine  again.  Then 
came  an  order  to  entrain  on  January  22,  and,  a  trifle 
distrustfully,  we  started  preparations  to  move  again. 
A  pleasing  feature  of  the  new  order  was  that  we  en- 
train at  Vitry,  a  good  30  kilometers  from  Varennes, 
instead  of  at  La  Ferte,  only  seventeen.  So  we  swore 
and  waited. 

Our  move  from  Varennes  marked  a  new  epoch  in 
the  "Great  Trek"  of  the  Battery.  For  the  first  time 
in  many  long  months,  we  knew  where  we  were 
going,  knew  that  we  were  bound  for  Mayet,  in  the 
Ecommoy  district  of  the  "Le  Mans  Area."  The  length 
of  our  stay  in  Mayet  was  unknown,  but  rumors  placed 
it  anywhere  from  ten  days  to  a  month,  and  we,  cred- 
ulous as  ever,  looked  for  a  speedy  embarkation. 

All  the  afternoon  there  was  a  great  commotion  in 
Varennes,  trucks  coming  and  going,  motorcyclists 
and  runners  dashing  feverishly  about.  Shortly  after 
two  o'clock,  the  first  units  of  the  Regiment  left  the 
town,  while  the  Battery  sat  on  the  newly-rolled  packs 
and  waited — the  afternoon  waned,  and  still  we  sat. 
Suddenly,  at  5.30,  our  whistle  shrilled  in  the  street 
and  we  tumbled  out,  shrugging  and  hunching  our- 
selves into  our  packs,  to  wait  another  half  hour,  and 
wonder  what  it  was  all  about.  Six  o'clock,  we  swung 
into  column  and  started  off  on  our  long  grind. 

Then  followed  the  most  touching  tribute  that  the 
Battery  ever  received  in  all  its  long  penance  in 
France,  a  tribute  to  the  consideration,  the  decency, 
the  good  fellowship  of  our  men.    As  we  formed  our 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  213 

column  and  started  up  the  road,  there  was  a  general 
rush  on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants  out  into  the  street, 
and  we  found  ourselves  in  the  center  of  a  great  storm 
of  "adieu",  "au  revoir",  and  "bon  voyage."  With 
tears  running  down  their  cheeks  the  women  waved 
madly  to  us,  crying  incoherent  messages  to  the  boys 
whom  they  knew  best,  while  the  men,  more  self-con- 
tained, stood  silently  watching,  darting  forward  now 
and  then  to  exchange  a  hearty  grip  with  some  friend 
in  O.  D.  "Bonne  chance,  mon  ami,  et  au  revoir." 
As  we  neared  the  crossroad  where  we  must  turn  our 
backs  on  Varennes  forever,  an  old  woman,  her  voice 
shaking  with  emotion,  cried  out,  "Non,  non  c'est  pas 
adieu,  c'est  au  revoir;  vous  reviendrez,  tous,  mes 
enfants !" 

Adieu  to  Varennes.  Silently  we  turned  and  swung 
off  down  the  long  road  toward  La  Ferte,  the  most 
dour  of  us  strangely  moved  by  this  touching  fare- 
well on  the  part  of  those  whose  cheery  good-fellow- 
ship had  done  so  much  to  make  bearable  the  dreary 
weeks  of  waiting. 

The  hike  from  Varennes  to  Vitry  was  an  event 
to  be  long  remembered.  Thirty  black  kilometers  over 
a  frozen  road,  with  heavy  packs  on  our  backs,  and  the 
halts  maddening  rare.  La  Ferte,  our  detraining 
point,  was  passed,  the  men  casting  wistful  glances 
at  the  station,  wondering  why  the  powers  that  be 
had  seen  it  necessary  to  send  us  to  Vitry,  to  give  us 
a  hike  of  thirty  kilometers  instead  of  sixteen.  At  last 
we  swung  off  the  main  road,  and  crept  forlornly  into 
Vitry,  just  as  the  church  bells  struck  the  hour  of  mid- 
night.   As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  tracks  were 


214  BATTERY  A 

illuminated  by  huge  fires  around  which  were  huddled 
the  men  who  had  been  lucky  enough  to  escape  the 
hike  by  riding  down  in  trucks.  The  leaping  flames, 
the  shifting  shadows  of  the  men,  the  black  night 
which  seemed  to  surge  in,  then  to  recede  as  the  fires 
waned  and  waxed,  gave  a  wierd,  unreal  effect,  like 
Dores'  wild  conception  of  the  Inferno.  Along  this 
blazing  avenue  we  marched,  and  found,  to  our  dis- 
gust, that  we  must  wait  for  our  train  in  a  spot  far 
distant  from  the  fires.  Shelter  at  Vitry  station  was 
scarce  as  shelter  in  Death  Valley,  so,  swathed  like 
Bedouins  in  our  blankets,  we  hunched  up  in  miser- 
able groups,  our  backs  to  the  damp  bitter  wind,  and 
sought  consolation  in  the  thought  that  "it  wouldn't 
last  forever."  It  didn't,  but  it  was  two  in  the  morning 
before  a  train  pulled  in.  We  slipped  into  our  packs  in 
a  non-committal  manner,  perfectly  prepared  to  hear 
that  this  train  was  not  ours.  But  it  was,  the  fates 
favoring  us,  and  we  marched  up  the  ramp  again,  past 
the  friendly  flaring  fires,  and  clambered  into  our  cars. 
The  allowance  of  straw  was  insufficient;  presently 
from  each  car  a  dark  figure  slipped  forth  and  vanished 
into  the  night,  to  return  in  a  most  undignified  haste, 
staggering  under  a  bale  of  straw,  filched  from  under 
the  very  nose  of  the  R.  T.  O.  Immediately  a  subdued 
rustling  and  thumping  filled  the  air,  sounds  of  straw 
being  straightened  out  and  spread  over  rough  boards. 
Another  five  minutes  of  restless  shifting  and  turning 
and  A  Battery  was  at  home.    Allons  I 

Next  morning  found  us  well  on  our  way  across 
France,  at  a  speed  which  promised  a  daylight  entrain- 
ing.   Bourges  was  passed,  and  noon  found  us  at  St. 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  215 

Pierre  des  Corps,  a  suburb  of  Tours.  Here  we  had 
a  long  halt ;  coffee  was  served  by  the  Red  Cross,  and 
life  took  on  a  far  brighter  aspect.  Seated  in  car 
doors,  the  lighter  spirits  of  the  Battery  passed  the 
time  by  commenting  on  the  M.  P.'s,  the  R.  T.  O.  and 
similar  inoffensive  beings.  "Who  won  the  war?" 
some  wit  would  shout,  whereupon  thirty  voices  would 
answer  as  one,  "The  M.  P.'s.  One  M.  P.  rashly  tried 
to  argue,  but  was  quickly  routed  and  retired  in  dis- 
order amid  a  storm  of  exultant  howls.  The  appear- 
ance of  Q.  M.  C.  men  instantly  brought  forth  the  song 
"Mother,  Pull  in  Your  Service  Flag,  Your  Son's  in 
the  S.  O.  S.,"  to  the  tune  of  '  :'Where  do  we  go  from 
here,"  a  sprightly  song,  but  rather  unfair  to  the  highly 
essential  S.  O.  S. 

While  we  waited,  a  passenger  train  drew  up  be- 
tween us  and  the  station.  The  door  of  a  first  class 
compartment  opened  and  out  popped  a  "Y"  man. 
Beaming  all  over,  with  outstretched  hand  he  ad- 
vanced toward  our  cars.  In  the  mind  of  the  Battery, 
an  outstretched  Y.  M.  C.  A.  hand  can  mean  but  one 
thing;  so  those  men  at  the  doors  dug  down  into  their 
pockets  with  sighs  of  resignation,  and  tossed  five- 
centime  pieces  to  the  approaching  Red  Triangle  man 
who  fled  under  this  novel  barrage. 

Toward  four  in  the  afternoon  our  train  pulled  out, 
to  the  obvious  relief  of  the  M.  P.'s,  and  R.  T.  O.,  and 
away  we  jolted  on  the  last  lap  of  our  journey.  Six 
o'clock,  and  our  train  slowed  down,  halted,  and  at  a 
blast  from  the  top-sergeant's  whistle,  out  we  tum- 
bled, giving  silent  thanks  that  it  was  Still  light,  for 


216  BATTERY  A 

there  is  nothing  so  confusing  as  detraining  in  the 
dark. 

Details  quickly  threw  off  what  was  left  of  the 
regimental  equipment,  and  we  marched  away  through 
the  fast-gathering  dusk.  We  did  not  go  far;  a  sort 
of  sunken  terrace  behind  the  station  proved  to  be  our 
objective,  and  here  we  threw  off  our  packs  and 
waited. 

The  hours  passed  slowly,  but  at  last  the  long-ex- 
pected whistle  shrilled  in  the  close-pressing  dark- 
ness, and  glad  to  put  an  end  to  this  inaction,  we  stum- 
bled to  our  feet,  clutching  our  packs,  and  fell  in.  We 
struggled  up  the  terrace  bank  and,  stumbling  across 
the  railroad  tracks,  started  up  a  long  dark  street. 
Ahead  of  us  shone  many  brightly  lighted  windows, 
while  a  tall,  slender  church  spire,  unreal  and  shim- 
mering in  the  light  of  the  new-risen  moon,  seemed  to 
shift  and  sway  over  the  town.  Up  the  street  we  went, 
passing  shop  after  shop,  wondering  which  of  the 
world's  biggest  cities  this  was,  and  finally  marched 
out  into  a  vast  square.  At  one  end  was  the  church, 
a  handsome  Gothic  structure ;  a  fountain  surmounted 
by  a  fine  statue  representing  republican  France, 
spouted  and  gurgled  in  the  center,  while  around  the 
sides  ran  a  belt  of  glowing  cafes  and  stores.  We 
gazed  in  dumb  incomprehension  at  all  these  wonders, 
the  dominant  idea  in  each  mind  being,  a  wish  to  be 
billeted  in  or  near  this  town.  That  was  too  good  to 
be  seriously  considered.  We  had  had  our  turn  at 
Varennes. 

Crossing  the  square,  we  plunged  into  the  Stygian 
mouth  of  a  side  street,  shut  in  by  tall,  solid  looking 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  217 

buildings,  three  stones  at  least  in  height,  and  half 
way  up  this  street  we  halted.  Seated  on  the  curb- 
stone, we  wondered  at  the  unexpected  generosity  of  a 
halt  after  a  short  half-kilometer  hike.  Suddenly,  a 
gasp  of  astonishment  arose,  spread  down  the  whole 
line.  A  voice  in  the  gloom  was  making  pleasant  re- 
marks about  billets!  Were  we  to  billet  here?  Yes, 
there  were  the  first  three  sections,  filing  away  into  a 
yawning  doorway.  Billeted!  In  this  town!  Verily 
the  Fates  are  good! 

Mayet  we  found  to  be  a  far  larger  and  more  mod- 
ern town  than  Varennes.  There  were  plenty  of 
stores,  there  was  even  a  jewelry  store,  there  were 
four  hotels,  or  rather,  inns,  where  the  far-sighted  im- 
mediately engaged  rooms  for  the  magnificent  sum  of 
one  franc  per  day.  The  buildings  were  all  more  mod- 
ern than  those  at  Varennes,  and  a  general  air  of  mod- 
erate prosperity  pervaded  the  whole  town.  Our  bil- 
lets it  must  be  confessed,  were  inferior  to  those  at 
Varennes.  We  were  more  crowded,  and  though  most 
sections  were  lodged  in  vacant  houses,  none  were  so 
unfortunate  as  to  revel  in  the  luxury  of  a  furnished 
house.  And  the  poor  Special  Detail,  occupants  of  the 
most  luxurious  billet  in  Varennes,  found  themselves 
in  a  dark  draughty  loft,  whose  roof  was  addicted  to 
the  extremely  annoying  habit  of  leaking. 

Foot  drill  was  the  rule  again,  and  all  the  Regiment 
splashed  about  the  low-lying  fields  of  Mayet,  in  a 
state  of  stony  boredom. 

Rumors  were  running  in  a  most  erratic  manner, 
placing  our  stay  in  Mayet  anywhere  from  two  weeks 
to  two  and  three  months  and  the  regimental  morale 


218  BATTERY  A 

ebbed  and  flowed  accordingly.  Our  chief  dread  now 
was  to  be  sent  to  the  concentration  camp  at  Le  Mans 
to  be  de-cootie-ized  and  otherwise  purified.  For 
there,  robbed  of  all  creature  comforts,  we  should 
dwell  in  draughty  tents  in  a  sea  of  mud,  and  go 
through  unheard-of  tortures  and  humiliation  to  be 
cleansed  of  our  unwelcome  but  persistent  visitors. 
Rumor,  on  this  score,  pointed  to  the  Le  Mans  camp 
as  an  absolute  certainty,  but  was  erratic  in  regard 
to  the  date. 

The  regiment  stretched  every  nerve  in  an  effort 
to  be  cootie-less  before  the  day  of  our  final  departure. 
Each  battery  set  up  its  private  cootie-bath  establish- 
ment, and  the  men  went  through  the  cleansing  process 
over  and  over  again.  Informal  inspections  were  held, 
and  soon  reports  began  to  drift  in  that  such  and  such 
a  battery  had  only  five  men  who  still  suffered  from 
friend  cootie ;  that  so  many  sections  of  a  certain  bat- 
tery were  absolutely  "clean,"  and  so  on.  It  began  to 
develop  into  a  sort  of  competition,  and  as  usual,  A 
Battery  was  well  to  the  front. 

Rumors  of  a  gigantic  review  of  the  entire  Division 
to  take  place  near  Ecommoy,  some  eight  kilometers 
away,  were  soon  confirmed  in  orders  which  gave  the 
added  information  that  the  review  would  be  for  the 
benefit  of  General  Pershing.  Naturally,  following 
the  receipt  of  this  order,  the  entire  51st  Brigade  in- 
dulged in  a  great  number  of  practice  reviews,  the 
men  appearing  with  packs  and  steel  helmets.  Every- 
one participated,  even  the  football  players,  who, 
rooted  out  of  a  life  of  peace  and  meditation,  were 
flung  back  into  the  menial  maelstrom  of  foot-drill. 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  21^ 

The  day  of  the  Review  was  cold  and  bleak,  with 
gusts  of  rain  falling  at  distressingly  frequent  inter- 
vals. We  plodded  disgustedly  on  through  Pontval- 
lain,  our  only  thought  being  to  get  this  latest  ordeal 
over  with  as  soon  as  possible.  Each  man  carried  a 
two-blanket  pack,  his  steel  helmet  and  gas-mask,  and 
a  canteen  full  of  water.  In  addition  to  this  and  by 
way  of  consolation,  inside  each  pack  was  tucked  a 
bacon  sandwich,  supposed  to  nourish  and  cheer  the 
tired  soldier  through  the  long  hours  of  waiting. 

After  we  had  toiled  over  the  hard  road  for  what 
seemed  to  be  an  interminable  length  of  time,  through 
the  intermittent  but  discouraging  drizzle,  the  column 
turned  off  the  main  road  and  wound  along  through 
dense  pine  wood  to  emerge  at  last  upon  a  broad  open 
field,  fairly  level,  and  covered  with  short,  crisp  turf, 
the  Ecommoy  rifle  range. 

Already  the  field  was  partially  covered  by  steel- 
helmeted  troops,  the  brilliant  red  guidons  marking 
the  artillery  regiments,  while  the  sombre  gleam  of 
the  blued  bayonets  indicated  the  infantry  and  the  am- 
munition trains.  Across  this  wide  space  we  marched, 
now  stepping  across  a  tiny  brook,  now  leaping  a  shal- 
low trench,  until  we  reached  the  extreme  left  of  the 
field  where  we  faced  about  in  column  of  platoons  and 
settled  ourselves  for  the  long  wait  which  was  bound 
to  come.  All  through  the  long  hours,  heavy  masses 
of  fresh  troops  poured  onto  the  field,  forming  in 
platoon  columns  on  our  right,  a  sombre,  shifting  mass, 
unrelieved  by  any  splash  of  brilliance  save  where  the 
instruments  of  the  massed  bands  of  the  Division 
twinkled  dimly  in  the  dull  noontime  light. 


220  BATTERY  A 

Shortly  after  one  o'clock  a  huge  gray  limousine, 
rolling  and  pitching  over  the  uneven  ground,  slid 
jerkily  onto  the  field  and  stopped.  Attention  was 
blown,  and  the  review  began.  Mounted  on  a  mag- 
nificent horse,  General  Pershing  rode  at  a  gallop 
around  the  huge,  solid  square  formed  by  the  Division, 
and  completing  his  tour,  dismounted  and  proceeded 
to  make  a  more  detailed  inspection,  going  between 
the  ranks  of  each  platoon. 

As  this  was  a  lengthy  procedure,  and  the  General 
started  on  the  extreme  right  of  the  line,  we  were  put 
at  ease,  and  watched  the  review  with  great  interest. 
It  was  an  impressive  sight.  Away  on  our  right,  for 
at  least  a  kilometer,  stretched  the  dull,  rigid  mass  of 
olive  drab,  the  regimental  and  national  colors,  now 
unfurled,  snapping  in  the  light  breeze,  over  the  clus- 
tered bayonets  which  shimmered  dully  under  the 
cloudy  sky.  Now  and  then  we  could  catch  a  brighter 
gleam  from  the  bands  which  were  playing  Sambre 
et  Meuse,  thundering  out  the  magnificent  chords  of 
the  soul-stirring  French  march.  Suddenly  attention 
was  called  and  before  we  realized  it.  General  Per- 
shing was  passing  through  our  ranks,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  question  some  wearer  of  a  wound-stripe, 
but  always  hurrying,  hurrying  on  under  the  cold,  un- 
responsive gaze  of  the  ranks,  as  though  he  were  per- 
forming some  boresome  task  which  must  be  quickly 
done. 

Patiently  we  stood  through  the  long  ceremony 
of  decoration,  waiting  dully  for  the  final  breakup.  As 
we  watched,  a  great  hush  came  over  the  field,  then  a 
whistle  shrilled,  and  the  bands  struck  up  a  lively 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  221 

march.  Far  off  on  the  right  could  be  perceived  a 
slight  motion,  then  before  we  realized  it,  the  whole 
Division  moved,  forming  rapidly  into  a  huge  thick 
column,  a  rustling  drab  carpet  of  round  helmets  and 
coldly  shining  bayonets.  As  each  regiment  passed 
the  reviewing  stand,  it  broke  into  a  brisk  run,  swept 
up  over  a  bank  and  vanished  on  the  other  side,  wave 
after  wave  surging  and  breaking  over  the  grassy 
barrier.    The  review  was  over. 

A  day  or  so  after  the  review,  rifles  were  issued, 
a  calamity  which  had  hung  over  us  for  weeks.  Put- 
ting two  and  two  together,  the  pessimists  slunk  about 
commiserating  with  anyone  who  would  listen:  "We'll 
sure  go  to  Germany  now;  tough  luck  after  getting 
orders  to  go  home!" 

As  usual,  events  didn't  follow  rumor  at  all,  and 
on  we  stayed,  learning  the  manual  of  arms,  trying  to 
do  "Squads  right"  without  awkward  entanglements 
of  firearms  on  the  part  of  the  front  and  rear  ranks. 
In  the  intervals  when  we  were  not  drilling,  we  hunted 
the  elusive  cootie,  who  was  fast  becoming  a  minus 
quantity,  and  spent  pleasant  hours  in  the  cafes  or 
with  our  French  friends.  The  inhabitants  of  Mayet 
were  a  little  distant  when  we  first  entered  the  town, 
the  situation  being  much  like  that  at  Gery.  Before 
we  left,  however,  we  were  on  as  intimate  a  footing 
with  the  inhabitants  as  we  had  been  at  Varennes. 

As  the  middle  of  March  approached,  rumors  ma- 
terialized into  orders,  vague  at  first,  but  more  and 
more  definite  as  the  days  went  on.  Embarkation  of- 
ficers inspected  our  equipment,  rifles  were  turned  in, 
and  a  concentrated  drive  was  launched  against  the 


222  BATTERY  A 

few  remaining  cooties.  At  last,  final  orders  came; 
we  were  to  leave  Mayet  for  Brest  on  March  26.  Men 
on  furlough  were  recalled,  all  leaves  were  cancelled, 
and  one  last  rush  finished  up  the  remaining  paper 
work.  Strange  to  say,  there  was  no  wild  demonstra- 
tion at  the  receipt  of  these  orders.  We  had  waited 
too  long;  the  keen  edge  was  taken  oflf  our  joy  and  we 
wer^  almost  apathetic  about  our  approaching  move. 
After  all,  what  was  there  to  exult  about?  We  were 
ordered  to  Brest.  Rumors  and  signs  pointed  to  a 
short  stay  there.  So  had  signs  and  rumors  indicated 
a  short  stay  in  Mayet,  two  weeks  at  the  most;  and 
how  long  had  we  been  here?  Nearly  two  months.  So 
might  we  be  two  months  in  Brest,  exchanging  our 
congenial  surroundings  for  a  draughty  tent  in  a  huge 
muddy  camp. 

On  March  20  came  an  order  postponing  our  de- 
parture from  Mayet  till  the  27th,  a  change  greeted 
with  grunts  of  indifference.  A  month  before  such 
an  order  would  have  called  forth  a  howl  of  indigna- 
tion, but  now  it  was  diflferent.  We  merely  delayed 
preparations  and  dully  wondered  if  we  ever  would 
move. 

The  day  of  our  departure  saw  us  rise  before  dawn, 
police  our  quarters  feverishly,  roll  our  packs  after  a 
hurried  breakfast,  march  to  the  station — and  wait 
there  three  hours  for  our  train.  Tumbling  on  board 
in  great  haste,  we  started  on  this,  the  last  lap  of  our 
pilgrimages  over  the  French  railroads. 

Barring  the  cold,  for  the  cootie-breeding  straw 
was  strictly  prohibited,  our  trip  was  most  comfort- 
able.   Attached  to  the  train  was  a  kitchen-car,  a  new 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  223 

institution  for  us,  which  fed  us  royally  on  steak, 
fresh  biscuit,  and  hot  coffee,  instead  of  our  usual 
train  diet  of  canned  roast  beef  and  hardtack.  Verily, 
things  were  beginning  auspiciously. 

Morning  of  March  28  saw  us  gliding  smoothly 
along  the  Breton  coast,  whose  ragged  hills  opened 
now  and  then,  allowing  us  glimpses  of  the  sea,  to 
many  their  first  glimpse  since  September,  1917.  Noon 
and  we  were  in  Brest,  looking  out  over  the  harbor 
from  our  car  doors,  wondering  which  of  the  big  liners 
riding  at  anchor  beyond  the  breakwater  could  be 
ours  and  when  the  moment,  dreamed  of  for  months, 
would  come  when  we  should  go  on  board. 

Behind  us  lay  a  labyrinth  of  wooden  buildings, 
all  bearing  the  magic  word  "Embarkation", — the  em- 
barkation Mess-hall,  the  Embarkation  Offices,  the 
Embarkation  Hospital.  Repeating  that  soul-satisfy- 
ing word  to  ourselves,  we  slowly  clambered  out  of 
our  cars  and  piled  our  packs  on  the  station  platform. 
The  first  move  was  cheering.  We  lined  up,  armed 
with  our  mess-kits,  and  were  marched  into  the  yawn- 
ing maze  of  the  Embarkation  Mess-Hall.  Surely  this 
presaged  a  hasty  meal  and  immediate  embarkation. 
Otherwise,  why  not  wait  till  we  reached  the  camp  on 
the  interior  and  mess  at  the  kitchen  there?  Hope- 
fully we  crowded  past  the  serving-tables  and  were 
issued  our  meal  with  a  speed  which  for  the  American 
Army  was  surprising.  Five  thousand  men  could  be 
fed  in  an  hour  by  this  remarkable  system,  we  were 
told. 

As  sort  of  a  desert  to  this  surprising  meal,  we 
started  off,   sac-a-dos,   through  the  §te€p  winding 


224  BATTERY  A 

streets  of  Brest,  following  the  sign  which  pointed  to- 
ward Camp  Pontanezen,  our  destination.  It  was  a 
gorgeous  day,  warm  and  springlike;  ahead  of  us, 
crowning  a  low,  gently  swelling  hill  was  an  orderly 
array  of  barracks  and  tents,  stretching  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  Camp  Pontanez^i. 

A  huge  place  we  found  it,  row  after  row  of  Adrian 
barracks,  of  tents,  with  here  and  there  some  huge 
wooden  structure  which  loomed  above  its  smaller 
neighbors  as  an  ocean  liner  overshadows  its  bevy  of 
tugs.  We  came  to  an  area  that  was  devoted  entirely 
to  tents,  and  here  we  halted.  Behold,  our  new  homes ! 
And  good  homes  they  were,  each  tent  containing  a 
wooden  floor,  a  stove  and  only  six  beds ;  six  beds  with 
real  mattresses;  no  overcrowding,  no  suffering  from 
cold.  This  was  the  terrible  Brest  camp  we  had  heard 
so  much  about. 

The  rest  of  the  day  passed  quietly  enough,  though 
we  were  ordered  to  hold  ourselves  in  readiness  for 
anything  that  might  occur.  We  messed  in  a  kitchen 
like  that  at  the  station,  and  soon  after  rolled  up  in  our 
blankets  on  the  hard  but  welcome  mattresses. 

Next  day  saw  a  feverish  activity  in  our  camp. 
The  glorious  sun  which  greeted  our  arrival  had  given 
place  to  a  steady  drizzle,  through  which  we  tramped 
to  the  camp  cootie-baths.  Filing  in  between  rows  of 
benches  in  one  of  the  huge  buildings  we  had  noted 
the  day  before,  we  stripped  and  were  hastily  exam- 
ined for  cooties  by  rows  of  harassed  looking  medical 
officers.  Following  this,  having  thrown  away  our 
underwear,  we  moved  on  to  the  next  torture,  a  tor- 
ture known  as  the  kerosene  bath.     In  a  vast  room 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  225 

with  a  slatted  floor  we  shivered  under  lukewarm 
streams  of  a  mixture  of  kerosene  and  water,  a  sick- 
ening, slimy  fluid.  Rushing  from  there  into  a  species 
of  refrigerating  plant,  we  were  liberally  daubed  with 
a  noxious  liquid  whose  base  was  vinegar.  Oily  and 
subdued,  we  filed  by  a  long  counter  where  clean  un- 
derwear was  given  us,  and  dressing  hurriedly,  trooped 
sadly  back  to  camp,  wondering  if  it  were  safe  to 
smoke  when  one  felt  like  a  lampwick. 

Afternoon  brought  orders  to  embark  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  They  were  received  with  placid  sat- 
isfaction, but  no  wild  clamor,  for,  as  at  Mayet,  we 
had  been  expecting  it  too  long  to  feel  any  great  exult- 
ation. This  order  brought  a  new  form  of  penance, 
a  full  pack  inspection. 

Before  starting  out,  we  were  warned  that  the  lack 
of  even  a  piece  of  soap,  or  a  mirror  might  hold  up  the 
whole  Regiment ;  everyone  filled  his  pockets  with  ex- 
tras in  case  some  unfortunate  should  find  himself 
minus  some  bit  of  equipment.  With  cheering  possi- 
bility of  missing  our  chance  to  embark,  we  trudged 
off  under  our  packs  to  the  quarter  of  the  camp  where 
we  had  been  deloused.  Marching  through  various 
runways  and  corridors,  we  ended  up  in  a  large  hall, 
where  sundry  nervous  inspecting  officers  looked  over 
our  packs,  without  making  us  even  take  them  off, 
seeming  much  more  interested  in  uniformity  of  ap- 
pearance than  in  completeness  of  equipment.  Back 
in  our  tents  again,  we  unrolled  our  packs,  and  won- 
dered what  the  Inquisition  would  order  next. 

A  storm  of  warnings  in  regard  to  our  conduct  was 
the  next  excitement.    Our  innocent  curiosity  in  re- 


226  BATTERY  A 

gard  to  who  won  the  war  must  be  curbed.  As  an  ex- 
ample of  what  would  happen  in  case  our  inquisitive- 
ness  got  the  better  of  us,  we  were  told  of  a  division 
being  pulled  off  a  transport  for  asking  an  M.  P.  that 
innocuous  question.  The  many  Marines  in  camp  must 
not  be  jeered;  a  word  about  Chateau-Thierry  might 
mean  months  in  France  for  us.  In  fact,  the  whole 
procedure  was  much  like  some  old-fashioned  nurse 
frightening  her  small  charge  with  the  story  of  the 
"bad  little  boy  who  wouldn't  tell  the  truth  and  was 
eaten  up  by  bears." 

Keeping  in  mind  the  bears,  in  the  form  of  embark- 
ation inspectors,  we  were  a  silent  lot  as  we  trooped 
off  for  the  last  time  through  the  long  streets  of  Camp 
Pontanezen.  Clearing  the  camp,  we  breathed  more 
freely,  and  a  few  of  the  more  daring  spirits  exchanged 
furtive  whispers  on  the  subject  of  packs.  Down  the 
steep  hills  of  Brest  we  went,  forgetting  the  weight 
of  our  packs,  as  the  harbor  came  in  view,  but  never  a 
sound  did  we  make.  Silently,  steadily  we  passed  the 
fortifications,  gray,  ponderous  masses  of  hewn  stone, 
built  before  the  First  Empire,  and  with  a  thrill  of 
joy,  marched  into  the  long  echoing  sheds  at  the  decks. 

Here  we  waited  while  the  Red  Cross  distributed 
socks  filled  with  cigarettes  and  chocolates.  Still  sub- 
dued, after  an  interval  of  half  an  hour,  we  filed  si- 
lently past  a  latticed  window.  A  gruff-voiced  per- 
son, presumably  a  bear,  called  out  our  numbers,  and 
we  emerged  into  the  open  air,  at  the  head  of  a  gang- 
plank. 

Packed  on  lighters,  we  slid  quietly  out  of  Brest 
harbor,  past  the  long  breakwater  and  finally  came 


FIGHTING  THE  ARMISTICE  227 

alongside  a  huge  liner  bearing  on  its  stern  the  name 
"SS  Agememnon".  Wide  doors  were  opened  in  its 
side,  and  into  these  we  poured. 

At  last  we  had  shaken  the  mud  of  France  from  our 
feet.  Eighteen  months  and  twenty-three  days  had 
passed  since  we  had  seen  America,  and  now  our  wild- 
est dream  was  being  realized — we  were  going  home. 
For  all  those  months  "home"  for  us  had  meant  a 
French  barn,  a  dugout,  a  pup-tent,  a  shell-hole — we 
had  scarce  dared  to  look  further  ahead  than  that — 
and  now  those  long  months  sank  into  insignificance 
as  the  realization  surged  in  upon  us  that  we  were 
going  Home,  Home,  Home. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HOME 

March  30,  1919— April  29,  1919 

/^UR  quarters  on  board  the  Agamemnon  could 
^^  hardly  be  described  as  roomy;  all  partitions  be- 
low deck  had  been  torn  up,  and  the  space  filled  with 
tiers  of  steel  framed  bunks,  five  deep.  Every  bit  of 
available  space  had  been  utilized,  and  there  was 
hardly  room  to  turn  around.  Gloomily  picturing 
what  these  quarters  would  be  like  on  a  rough  day, 
we  seized  our  mess-kits  and  started  up  on  deck.  "Eat, 
drink  and  be  merry,  for  tomorrow  it  may  be  rough." 
Noon  of  March  31.  We  have  been  jammed  through 
the  mess-line  (of  which  more  later)  and  are  crowded 
about  the  deck,  watching  the  feverish  activity  of  part 
of  the  crew;  starting  nervously  when  some  coarse 
voice  bellows  unintelligible  orders  in  our  very  ears, 
for  our  departure  is  imminent  and  we  tremble  even 
now,  lest  some  vile  freak  of  chance  stay  our  progress. 
The  windlasses  squawk  and  creak,  the  anchor  chains 
rattle  harshly,  and  a  dull,  persistent  throbbing  sets 
the  whole  ship's  frame  quivering;  the  engines! 
Slowly,  imperceptibly  at  first,  but  with  gathering  im- 
petus, we  creep  from  the  harbor.  Ten  minutes  more 
and  we  have  passed  the  last  far-reaching  finger  of 
land,  la  Pointe  de  St.  Mathieu.  Adieu,  France!  May 
our  next  visit  to  your  hospitable  shores  be  peaceful, 
and  untinged  with  O.  D. 


HOME  229 

Life  on  the  "Agamemnon"  was  quiet  enough. 
There  were  days  of  rolling  and  pitching,  when  even 
Death  Valley  at  its  worst  seemed  preferable  to  this 
strength-sapping  waste  of  waters.  The  chief  annoy- 
ance of  the  voyage  was  that  not  unimportant  feature, 
mess.  There  were  nearly  five  thousand  men  on  board, 
and  they  were  all  fed  at  the  same  time.  Promptly 
at  mess-call,  all  the  outfits  on  the  boat  lined  up  and 
those  on  the  upper  deck  started  through  the  line: 
"A"  Battery  was  unfortunate  enough  to  be  the  last 
to  go  through;  we  lined  up  at  mess-call,  we  waited 
anywhere  from  one  to  two  hours.  Inch  by  inch  we 
edged  along  the  deck,  finally  reaching  a  door  amid- 
ships. Here  there  was  another  wait,  while  the  head 
of  the  line  started  down,  six  at  a  time.  From  the 
door  one  went  down  two  flights  of  stairs,  through  a 
corridor,  down  another  flight,  directly  into  the  serv- 
ing room.  Here  one  emerged  into  a  Babel  of  howl- 
ing voices,  urging  speed  and  still  more  speed;  passed 
between  the  serving-tables,  where  the  food  was  deftly 
slung  into  the  mess-kits;  and  started  up  a  steep  flight 
of  stairs,  slippery  with  the  spillings  from  the  mess- 
kits  of  those  who  had  gone  before.  No  mean  feat  to 
ascend  those  steps  on  a  rough  day.  Arriving  at  the 
top,  a  fresh  difficulty  presented  itself,  for  a  precisely 
similar  flight,  but  more  slippery,  led  down  into  the 
dining-room.  Assuming  that  the  passage  was  safely 
negotiated,  the  unfortunate  diner  stumbled  over  to 
the  tables,  mere  wooden  trays,  suspended  from  the 
ceiling,  row  after  row.  Nothing  could  be  more  ex- 
hilarating than  a  venture  into  this  "madhouse",  as  we 
called  it,  on  a  rough  day.     The  trays  swayed  and 


230  BATTERY  A 

swung,  now  toward,  now  away  from  the  "ultimate 
consumer",  who  dodged  and  clutched  at  his  errant 
repast.  It  is  said  that  nothing  is  really  pleasure-giv- 
ing unless  it  is  worked  for.  Figuring  on  this  basis 
we  ought  io  have  enjoyed  our  meals  on  the  "Agam- 
emnon" as  never  before;  but  few  were  heard  to  speak 
of  the  cuisine  with  any  apparent  enthusiasm. 

The  "Agamemnon"  nosed  its  way  cautiously 
through  a  thick  fog.  Perched  on  every  conceivable 
point  of  vantage,  were  eager  figures  in  O.  D.,  peer- 
ing intently  ahead,  striving  to  pierce  the  feathery 
cloud  which  covered  the  sea.  It  was  April  7,  and  we 
were  due  to  dock  at  noon,  not  in  a  strange  port,  but 
in  Boston,  the  city  of  our  dreams,  our  home!  We 
stared  out  to  sea,  and  cursed  the  mist  which  shut  off 
the  outside  world  from  our  view.  Toward  noon  the 
fog  lifted  a  little  and,  suddenly,  as  we  strained  our 
eyes  for  a  sight  of  the  still  hidden  land,  we  caught  the 
dull,  regular  throb  of  engines  through  fog,  growing 
more  loud.  Presently  a  vague,  dark  shape  appeared 
in  the  lightening  curtain  of  mist,  growing  ever 
clearer  till  suddenly  it  seemed  to  burst  forth  from  its 
white  shroud,  and  leap  toward  us  over  the  water.  It 
was  a  small  steamer,  decked  and  flaunting  with  flags 
and  pennants.  On  its  foredeck  a  band  was  blaring 
out  a  march  which  we  could  vaguely  hear. 

A  wild  yell  leapt  from  the  packed  decks  of  the 
"Agamemnon."  For  us,  this  tiny  steamer  symbolized 
home,  America,  and  we  cheered  and  waved  as  though 
the  Customs  House  Tower  were  in  sight. 

Close  on  the  heels  of  the  steamer  followed  the 
pilot-boat  and  a  small  fleet  of  submarine  chasers, 


HOME  231 

which  darted  hither  and  thither  about  the  huge  liner, 
their  crews  leaping  about  the  decks  in  a  frenzy  of  ex- 
citement. Then  the  chasers  swung  into  line  and  slid 
in  a  wave-splitting  column  beside  our  ship. 

In  a  golden  glow  from  the  ever-brightening  sun, 
we  passed  up  the  outer  harbor,  whose  shores  the 
clinging  mist  still  hid,  till  suddenly  Deer  Island  leapt 
forth,  glowing  in  the  noontide  sun,  and  with  it  the 
whole  inner  harbor  with  Boston  looming  up  in  the 
background. 

A  swarm  of  excursion-steamers,  ferries,  tugs,  and 
launches  hitherto  hidden  by  the  mist  crowded  around 
the  "Agamemnon",  that  grim,  battered  veteran  of 
the  seas,  looking  every  inch  the  ship  to  carry  battered 
veteran  troops.  Packed  on  the  decks  of  the  smaller 
craft  were  hundreds  of  friends  of  the  Regiment, 
eager  to  be  the  first  to  welcome  it  home. 

As  we  hung  over  the  side  of  the  now  motionless 
"Agamemnon",  seeking  to  discern  some  familiar  face 
in  the  throng  that  surrounded  us,  we  caught  sight  of 
an  erect,  motionless,  gray-haired  figure  standing  on 
the  upper  deck  of  a  small  steamer.  He  was  clad  in 
the  overseas  uniform  and  on  his  cap  we  could  barely 
make  out  two  silver  stars;  there  was  something 
strangely  familiar  about  this  silent,  motionless,  man, 
and  we  stared  wonderingly  till  suddenly  the  light  of 
recognition  seemed  to  burst  upon  all  the  home-comers 
simultaneously.  A  wild  shout,  spreading  along  the 
whole  ship,  seemed  to  tear  across  the  water  to  the 
tiny  steamer.    "General  Edwards!" 

Midafternoon  and  the  "Agamemnon"  was  in  mo- 
tion again,  nosing  slowly  among  this  bedlam  of  whis- 


232  BATTERY  A 

ties,  till  Commonwealth  Pier  loomed  alongside.  The 
pier  was  thronged  with  madly  cheering  people,  sol- 
diers and  civilians.  Many  of  the  former  wore  the 
familiar  YD  and  the  red  discharge  stripe,  wounded 
men  who  had  been  invalided  home  before  the  ar- 
mistice. 

A  gangplank  went  down  and  was  immediately 
covered  with  a  hurrying  swarm  of  newspapermen 
and  lucky  holders  of  passes.  In  placid  contentment 
we  gazed  longingly  down  at  the  crowded  pier,  at  the 
buildings  crowded  close  to  the  water's  edge — we  were 
at  home! 

Little  sleep  for  us  that  night.  The  following 
morning  we  were  to  disembark,  and  that  thought 
alone  was  enough  to  keep  us  awake,  let  alone  the 
din  and  clangor  of  the  tireless  derricks  which  worked 
all  through  the  night  discharging  the  cargo  from  the 
hold. 

Sunrise  found  us  on  deck,  packs  made,  waiting 
eagerly  for  the  order  to  pass  off  to  the  pier.  At  last 
the  order  came,  and  we  filed  impatiently  along  the 
deck  to  our  gangplank,  chafing  at  the  least  delay, 
until,  with  a  surge  of  relief,  our  feet  struck  the  hard 
concrete  of  the  dock.  A  band,  hammering  away  for 
dear  life,  sent  its  music  echoing  down  the  long  cov- 
ered shed,  while  we  performed  sundry  eccentric  evo- 
lutions which  swung  us  into  line  along  one  wall  of 
the  shed. 

Off  went  all  the  packs,  and  cups  were  produced  as 
by  magic  from  the  depths  of  canteen  covers,  for  a 
swarm  of  Red  Cross  workers  bore  down  on  us  with 
huge  cans  of  coffee  and  trays  of  buns. 


HOME  233 

Breakfast  over,  we  sat  down  to  wait  for  our  next 
move,  not  caring  particularly  when  it  might  come. 
We  were  at  home  and  that  was  the  main  point;  the 
rest  would  take  care  of  itself. 

Time  passed,  the  order  was  given,  and  we  filed 
off  in  column  of  twos,  down  a  long  flight  of  stairs 
into  the  trainshed  of  the  pier.  Loaded  with  gifts 
from  various  War  Relief  societies,  we  climbed  gin- 
gerly on  board  the  train.  No  "40  Hommes,  8  Chev- 
aux"  this  time !  Real  American  day-coaches  and  each 
man  had  a  seat  to  himself!  Luxuriously  we  placed 
our  packs  on  the  baggage  racks  and  sank,  with  moans 
of  pleasure,  onto  our  soft  cushions. 

The  train  glided  slowly  out  of  the  pier,  through 
the  railroad  yards  amid  a  shrieking  of  whistles,  and 
soon  Boston  was  left  behind.  We  were  not  alone, 
though,  for  it  seemed  that  every  inch  of  track  was 
lined  with  waving,  cheering  people,  and  whenever  the 
train  slowed  down,  pies  and  cakes  of  all  descriptions 
were  passed  in  through  the  car  windows.  The  tiniest 
station  had  its  excited  representatives,  and  at  Fram- 
ingham,  we  found  a  veritable  mob  of  welcomers.  All 
the  way  to  Ayer  it  was  the  same  story,  an  almost  con- 
tinuous line  of  people. 

So  this  is  what  New  England  thinks  of  the  26th! 

The  train  bumped  and  jolted  through  the  yards  at 
Ayer,  finally  coming  to  a  smooth  halt  near  some 
buildings,  whose  every  line  said  unmistakably  "U.  S. 
Army."  Slowly,  as  though  we  feared  that  it  was  all 
a  dream,  we  climbed  out  of  the  train,  and  fell  in,  half 
dazed,  on  a  smooth  asphalt  road,  and  marched  away, 
possessed  by  a  strong  feeling  of  unreality.    It  was 


234  BATTERY  A 

many  days  before  we  could  actually  grasp  the  fact 
that  we  were  home  again. 

Our  first  quarters  at  Camp  Devens  were  not  lux- 
urious. Tents,  much  like  those  at  Brest,  with  folding 
canvas  cots,  served  as  billets  for  our  first  two  days  in 
camp.  As  an  earnest,  however,  of  what  was  coming, 
we  messed  in  a  wooden  barrack,  steamheated  and  lit 
by  electricity,  a  marvel  of  ease  and  comfort,  we 
thought. 

Disgustedly  we  learned  that  we  must  pass  through 
cootie  baths  and  have  our  clothes  sterilized  before 
occupying  wooden  barracks.  It  seemed  unnecessary 
to  us,  for  the  battery  was  100  per  cent,  cootie-less 
when  it  left  Brest.  Resignedly  we  said,  "Cest  la 
guerre,"  and  passed  into  the  baths.  Our  clothes  were 
bundled  up  in  our  blankets  and  shot  into  steam  ovens, 
while  we  rushed  past  a  line  of  medical  officers,  hur- 
ried through  a  lukewarm  shower,  and  then,  clad  in 
long  wrappers,  waited  for  our  clothes  to  be  taken 
from  the  steam  ovens.  At  last  they  came  out.  What 
a  sight !  Blouses  that  had  gone  in  newly  pressed  and 
unwrinkled,  came  forth  a  mass  of  folds  and  creases, 
while  the  "Medico"  in  charge  of  the  ovens  joined  his 
two  assistant  apostles  in  cheerfully  assuring  us  that 
the  creases  couldn't  be  ironed  out.    Nice  man. 

That  night  the  first  lot  of  passes  were  given  out, 
and  the  fortunates  rushed  out  of  Devens,  bound  for 
seventy-two  hours  at  home,  their  ardor  slightly  damp- 
ened by  the  fantastic  appearance  of  their  uniforms. 

When  they  returned,  they  found  the  Battery  bus- 
ily doing  nothing  and  comfortably  lodged  in  wooden 
barracks,  accommodations  of  a  splendor  we  never 


HOME  235 

dared  dream  of:  spring  beds,  mattresses,  electric 
lights,  steam-heat,  hot  water,  a  mess-hall  and  kitchen 
on  the  first  floor,  showers  in  an  out-building  not  a 
dozen  feet  away.  This  was  a  good  war  now,  we 
decided. 

Little  attempt  was  made  at  any  work  till  the  week 
before  the  Divisional  Review,  which  was  scheduled 
for  the  22nd  of  April,  when  we  brushed  up  on  foot 
drill  and  put  our  equipment  in  order. 

The  Divisional  Review  at  Devens  was  much  like 
that  at  Ecommoy,  and  was  regarded  throughout  the 
Battery  as  a  decided  bore.  Remembering,  however, 
that  it  was  New  England's  first  glimpse  of  its  own 
division  en  masse,  we  suffered  through  as  best  we 
could,  standing  in  column  of  batteries  while  the  colors 
were  decorated.  The  final  breakup,  impressive  as  it 
must  have  been  to  the  on-lookers,  was  to  us  only  a 
sign  that  one  monotonous  and  irksome  task  was  out 
of  the  way.  Now  to  get  that  confounded  thing  to 
look  forward  to,  our  discharges  on  that  magic  day, 
the  twenty-ninth  of  April. 

The  Division  Parade  turned  out  to  be  more  or 
less  of  a  trial  for  us.  We  struggled  out  of  bed  at  the 
unholy  hour  of  four  and  were  finally  packed  on  trains 
by  eight  o'clock.  All  the  way  down  to  Boston  our 
journey  was  enlivened  by  train  boys  selling  cigar- 
ettes, candy,  etc.  Whenever  one  of  the  unfortunates 
ventured  into  a  car,  he  was  greeted  by  a  shout  of 
"Normal  Barrage,"  and  subjected  to  a  vigorous 
shower  of  miscellaneous  objects.  Deeply  grieved,  he 
would  pass  on,  hoping  for  kinder  treatment  in  the 
next  car. 


236  BATTERY  A 

We  detrained  at  Charlestown,  to  find  a  bitter  wind 
sweeping  the  city,  and  the  sun  completely  hidden  by 
a  malicious  blanket  of  clouds.  We  marched  away, 
gloomily  speculating  on  the  length  of  time  we  should 
wait  in  this  arctic  weather.  The  fears  of  even  the 
most  pessimistic  were  justified  for  we  halted  on  Brim- 
mer Street,  and  it  was  four  hours  or  more  before  we 
started  along  the  line  of  march. 

The  Red  Cross  gave  us  box  lunches  which  ab- 
sorbed our  minds  for  a  while,  but,  oh,  how  that  wind 
swept  up  the  street.  Some  few  were  fortunate  enough 
to  obtain  liquid  refreshments,  and  remained  happily 
oblivious  to  the  torments  and  tortures  of  the  ele- 
ments. 

Shortly  after  two  o'clock  the  welcome  order  was 
given,  and  we  started  off,  in  platoon  columns.  The 
parade  has  been  too  widely  described  to  make  a  de- 
tailed account  necessary  here.  The  Battery's  experi- 
ence was  much  like  that  of  other  units.  As  we 
couldn't  hear  the  band,  good  marching  was  difficult 
We  were  showered  with  cigars,  cigarettes,  etc.,  all 
along  the  line  of  march,  and  we  nearly  started  a  new 
casualty  list  when  we  were  given  a  long  stretch  of 
double  time  on  Commonwealth  Avenue. 

Chilled  and  tired,  we  gratefully  crept  in  through 
the  hospitable  doors  of  the  Commonwealth  Armory, 
the  Battery's  "Old  Homestead,"  where  we  found  cots, 
blankets,  and  comforters  waiting  for  us  in  the  small 
riding  ring.  Leave  was  granted  until  midnight  and 
an  indifferent  guard  posted  at  the  doors,  apparently 
to  impart  a  military  atmosphere  to  the  scene,  for  no 
orders  were  issued  in  regard  to  the  guard's  duties. 


HOME  237 

When  we  returned  to  Devens,  we  found  events 
moving  rapidly.  We  filled  out  innumerable  papers, 
signed  great  batches  of  irrelevant  cards,  and  were 
finally  marched  away  for  our  final  physical  exam. 

This  took  place  in  a  large  barrack  whose  interior 
was  divided  into  a  myriad  of  twisting  corridors  and 
lanes.  In  a  state  of  nature,  we  pattered  through  this 
labyrinth,  being  pounced  upon  every  few  moments 
by  a  semi-hostile  Minotaur,  disgtiised  as  a  medical 
officer  who,  after  examining  his  catch  for  whatever 
disease  or  deformity  he  thought  fit,  gave  minute  di- 
rections for  finding  the  next  Minotaur,  and  waited 
patiently  for  his  next  prey.  This  process  was  re- 
peated until  we  had  all  been  captured  and  examined  at 
least  a  dozen  times ;  each  was  then  given  a  sort  of  cer- 
tificate saying  that  the  bearer  had  braved  the  horrors 
of  the  labyrinth  and  came  forth  unscathed. 

On  "J  Day"  at  "H"  hour,  in  other  words,  Thurs- 
day, April  29,  at  7.30  A.  M.,  the  Battery  rushed  eag- 
erly toward  its  objective,  the  tiny  barrack  where  the 
discharges  were  to  be  given  out.  There  was  an  air 
of  suppressed  excitement  along  the  column,  for  this 
was  our  last  day  in  the  army.  Another  hour  or  at 
most  two  hours,  would  see  us  free  men.  The  only  di- 
version occurred  while  passing  a  recruiting  office 
where  two  would-be  comedians  rushed  toward  the 
building,  loudly  expressing  their  intention  of  reen- 
listing.  This  attempt  at  humor  was  greeted  in  sombre 
silence,  for  the  Battery  felt  that  this  was  no  subject 
for  idle  jest. 

We  reached  our  destination  early  and  learned 
with  placid  resignation  that  two  outfits  who  had  not 


238  BATTERY  A 

yet  arrived  were  to  be  discharged  ahead  of  us.  A 
wordy  war  ensued,  during  which  we  patiently  sat 
down  and  waited.  For  once,  right  conquered  and 
the  principle  of  "First  come,  first  served"  was  ad- 
hered to. 

With  wild  hoots  of  joy,  we  scrambled  to  our  feet 
and  lined  up  outside  the  building,  dancing  about  with 
impatience  as  the  slow  moving  line  hitched  its  way 
through  the  building.  No  one  felt  absolutely  safe  till 
the  precious  discharge  paper  was  firmly  clutched  in 
his  hand. 

The  process  was  simple  enough.    We  entered  the 
building,  which  was  partitioned  oflf  like  a  bank,  with 
various  windows,  behind  each  of  which  lurked  a  stony 
faced  acolyte  of  the  great  god  Red  Tape.    As  each 
soldier  approached  the  first  window,  an  important 
looking  official,  a  sort  of  highpriest  of  the  temple,  bel- 
lowed his  name;  from  the  first  window  a  mysterious 
hand  thrust  forth  the  discharge;  clasping  the  magic 
document  firmly,  he  pushed  on  to  the  next  window, 
where  some  form  of  non-commissioned  priest  of  the 
temple  pushed  out  a  stack  of  bills,  all  the  pay  due  to 
the  day  of  discharge.     Clutching  madly  at  this  the 
soldier  galloped  joyfully  out  into  the  open  air,  to 
lean  exhaustedly  against  the  building,  and  try  to 
realize  that  he  was  free.    Little  by  little  the  long  line 
edged  and  sidled  its  way  through  the  temple  of  Red 
Tape,  the  last  man  emerged,  staring  unbelievingly  at 
his  discharge  papers. 

"Fini  la  guerre!"    Battery  A  was  a  thing  of  the 
past ! 


I^unor  Snll 


JOSEPH  W.  ZWINGE.  Severely  wounded  on  April  15.  1918.  Died 
of  wounds  April  16.  Pvt.  1  CI.  Zwinge  was  taking  a  horse  to  Bat- 
talion Hdq.  on  Fort  Liouville  Hill  (near  St.-  JuHen,  Toul  Sector) 
when  he  was  caught  in  a  heavy  concentration  of  ISO's.  A  shell  splin- 
ter entered  his  head  above  the  right  eye.  He  was  sent  to  the  Field 
Hospital,  where  he  died  on  April  16.  He  was  buried  in  American 
Cemetery  No.  198,  near  Commercy. 

DAVIS  O.  LAWRENCE.  Killed  in  action  April  21.  1918,  at  the  Bat- 
tery position  near  Boncourt  (Toul  Sector).  Pvt.  1  CI.  Lawrence  was 
acting  gunner  corporal  of  the  first  piece.  Just  as  the  gun  was  being 
fired  a  German  150  exploded  in  the  gun  pit,  instanth'  killing  him. 
He  was  buried  in  the  American  Cemtery  at  Vignot,  France. 

E.  CLIFFORD  SAWYER.  Killed  in  action  April  21,  1918,  at  the 
Battery  position  near  Boncourt  (Toul  Sector).  Pvt.  1  CI.  Sawyer 
was  on  the  first  section  gim  crew  with  Lawrence  and  Righy.  He 
was  instantly  killed  by  the  same  shell  that  killed  them.  He  was 
buried  in  the  American  Cemetery  at  Vignot. 

NORBERT  E.  RIGBY.  Severely  wounded  April  21,  1918.  at  the  Bat- 
tery position  near  Boncourt  (Toul  Sector).  Died  of  wounds  on  the 
way  to  the  hospital.  Pvt.  1  CI.  Rigby  was  on  the  first  section  gun 
crew  with  Lawrence  and  Sawyer.  He  was  very  severely  wounded 
by  the  same  shell  that  killed  the  other  two.  He  died  in  the  ambu- 
lance on  his  way  to  the  hospital.  He  was  buried  in  the  American 
Cemetery  at  Vignot. 

E.  NEWEL  RIPLEY.  Killed  in  action  May  27,  1918,  at  the  Bat- 
tery position  at  Bernecourt  (Toul  Sector).  The  Germans  had 
launched  an  attack  against  the  101st  Infantry  and  were  shelling  the 
Battery  position  very  heavily  in  their  efforts  to  neutralize  the  guns. 
Sgt.  Ripley,  the  chief  of  the  third  section,  was  in  the  act  of  entering 
his  gun  pit  when  the  splinter  of  a  gas  shell  struck  him  in  the  heart, 
killing  him  instantly.  He  was  buried  in  the  American  Cemetery  at 
Menil-La-Tour. 

C.  RALPH  FARNSWORTH.  Killed  July  13.  1918,  at  the  Battery 
position  near  Paris  Farms  (Chateau-Thierry  Sector).  Corp.  Farns- 
worth,  the  chief  of  the  fourth  section,  had  been  firing  his  gun  inter- 
mittantjy  all  night.  Very  early  in  the  mornmg  of  the  13th  it  blew 
up,  killing  him  almost  immediately.  He  was  buried  in  the  cemetery 
near  Bezu-Le-Gery. 

PHILIP  CUNNINGHAM.  Killed  in  action  July  19.  1918,  at  the  Bat- 
tery position  in  Belleau  Woods  (Chateau-Thierry  Sector).  The 
Battery  had  made  its  first  move  forward  in  the  Aisne-Marne  Offen- 
sive the  night  before.  Pvt.  1  CI.  Cunningham  was  instantly  killed 
when  the  Batterv  position  was  caught  in  a  heavy  concentration  of 
77's.    He  was  buried  in  the  American  Cemetery  at  Bezu-Le-Gery, 


240  BATTERY  A 


Ifnnnr  Snll 


LAURENCE  B.  WILLIAMS.  Killed  in  action  July  19,  1918,  at  the 
Battery  position  in  Belleau  Woods  (Chateau-Thierry  Sector),  Corp, 
Williams  was  killed  at  the  same  time  as  Cunningham.  When  most 
of  the  Battery  had  moved  out  of  the  position,  owing  to  the  heavy 
shelling  that  was  going  on,  he  went  back  to  see  if  any  wounded  had 
been  left  behind,  and  in  so  doing  was  killed.  He  was  buried  in  the 
American  Cemetery  at  Bezu-Le-Gery. 

SETH  A.  ELDRIDGE,  Died  of  wounds  July  19,  1918.  Pvt.  Eldridge 
was  very  severely  wounded  in  the  same  heavy  shelling  that  killed 
Williams  and  Cunningham, — in  the  Belleau  Woods  position.  He 
died  in  the  103rd  Field  Hospital  the  same  day.  He  was  buried  in 
the  American  Cemetery  at  La  Ferte  sous  Jouarre. 

CHARLES  R.  ELLIS,  Killed  in  action  July  29,  1918,  at  the  forward 
echelon  in  the  woods  near  Preaux  Farm,  near  Beuvardes,  in  the 
Aisne-Marne  Offensive  when  a  150  exploded  near  him.  He  was 
buried  in  the  American  Cemetery  near  La  Logette  Farm  (Beau- 
vardes). 

EDWARD  A.  HOOPER.  Killed  in  action  July  29,  1918,  at  the  for- 
ward echelon  in  the  woods  near  Preaux  Farm,  near  Beuvardes,  in 
the  Aisne-Marne  Offensive,  by  the  same  shell  that  killed  Ellis  and 
Howland.  He  was  buried  in  the  American  Cemetery  near  La 
Logette  Farm  (Beuvardes). 

RAYMOND  L.  HOWLAND.  Killed  in  action  July  29,  1918,  at  the 
forward  echelon  in  the  woods  near  Preaux  Farm,  near  Beuvardes, 
in  the  Aisne-Marne  Offensive,  by  the  same  shell  that  killed  Ellis  and 
Hooper.  He  was  buried  in  the  American  Cemetery  near  La  Logette 
Farm  (Beuvardes). 

ELLERY  PEABODY,  Jr.  Died  of  wounds  Oct.  24,  1918,  The  firing 
Battery  was  moving  forward  to  its  advanced  position  in  "Death 
Valley,"  near  Haumont  (Verdun),  Sgt.  Peabody  was  walking  along 
near  the  Park  Wagon  when  a  burst  of  77's  exploded  around  them. 
He  was  very  severely  wounded  by  a  shell  fragment  and  later  died 
on  his  way  to  the  hospital.  He  was  buried  in  the  American  Cemetery 
at  Verdun, 

CHARLES  W,  PLUMMER.  Killed  in  action  Aug.  11,  1918.  Lieut. 
Plummer,  although  not  a  member  of  Battery  A  at  the  time  of  his 
death,  had  been  connected  with  the  organization  up  to  Jan.,  1918.  He 
was  killed  in  action,  while  flying  with  the  88th  Aero  Squadron,  above 
the  Vesle  River.  He  was  buried  near  Chateau-Thierry.  He  had 
been  awarded  both  the  Croix  de  Guerre  and  the  Distinguished  Serv- 
ice Cross. 


APPENDIX 

MEMBERS  OF  BATTERY  "A",  101  ST  F.  A. 
JULY  25,  1917  — APRIL  29,  1919 

ABBOTT,  JOSEPH  L    Enlisted  March  15,  1917.    Corporal,  June  3,  1917. 

Sgt.,  May  3,   1918.    Mess   Sgt,   Nov.   12,   1918.    Sgt.,  Feb.  3,  1919. 

Home  address.  Hotel  Canterbury,  Boston,  Mass. 
AGNEW,  HARRISON  P.    Enl.  Apr.  8,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Nov.  16, 

1918.    Home  address,  624  3rd  St.,  Council  BluflFs,  Iowa. 
ALDEN,  JOSEPH  B.    Enl.  May  19,   1917.    Trans,  fr.  Coast  Artillery, 

Aug.  25,  1917.    Pvt.,   1  CI.,  Nov.  12,  1918.    Home  address,  Cherry 

Valley,  Mass. 
APOLLONIO,  NICHOLAS.    Enl.  Apr.  8,  1917.    Corp.,  Apr.  24,   1919. 

Home  address,  27  Canton  Ave.,  Milton,  Mass. 
ARMAGOST,  CLARENCE  R.    Enl.  Sept.  21,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May 

17,  1918.     Home  address.  Rising  City,  Neb. 
ARNOLD,  WILLIAM  C.    Enl.  June  4,  1917.    Pvt,  1  CI.,  Mar.  1,  1918. 

Home  address,  80  Storrs  Ave.,  Braintree,  Mass. 
ATKINSON,  ROBT.  O.    Enl.  Nov.  30,  1917.     Assgd.  to  Btry.,  June  19, 

1918.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Nov.  12,  1918.    Home  address.  Portage,  Wis. 
AUSTIN,  HAROLD   R.     Enl.   May  21,   1917.     Pvt,   1    CI.,   Aug.,   1917. 

Home  address,  175  Amory  St.,  Jamaica  Plain,  Mass. 
ALLEN,  ROLAND  E.     Enl.  May  10,  1917.    Corp.,  Aug.  10,  1917.     Sgt, 

June  3,  1918.    Home  address,  Brewster,  Mass. 
BALCH,  PAUL  C.    Enl.  Apr.  26,  1917.    Trans,  to  Hdq.  Detch.,  51st  F.  A. 

Brig.,  Apr.  15,  1918.     Home  address,  31  Irma  Ave.,  Watertown,  Mass. 
BAILEY,  JOSEPH  C.    Enl.  May  28,  1917.    Horse  shoer.    Home  address, 

30  Washburn  St.,  Waterown,  Mass. 
BARBEE,   OSCAR   J.    Enl.   Sept   19,   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,  May   17, 

1918.    Home  address,  Linden,  Texas. 
BARLOW,  RICHARD  B.    Enl.  Apr.  2,  1917.    Home  address,  1076  Boyl- 

ston  St,  Boston. 
BARNES,  JOHN  S.    Enl.  May  9,  1917.    Corp.,  Aug.,  1918  — Nov.,  19ia 

Home  address,  33  Magnolia  St,  Arlington,  Mass. 
BARRY,  WILLIAM  B.    Enl.  Aug.  6,  1917.     Pvt,  1  CI.,  1918.    Evacuated 

to  hospital  and  dropped  from  rolls,  Sept.  17,  1918.    Home  address, 

169  Mystic  St,  Arlington,  Mass. 
BATEMAN,  GEORGE  W.,  Jr.    Enl.  Sept.  1,  1917.    A.  W.  O.  L.,  Oct  30, 

1918.    Dropped  from  rolls.    Home  address,  62  Harlow  St.,  Arlington, 

Mass. 
BARR,  HENRY  C.    Enl.  March  26,   1917.    Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,   101st 

F.  A.,  Aug.,  1917.    Home  address,  Bennington,  N.  H, 
BEAL,  ARCHIE  H.    Enl.  May  11,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry..  July  25,  1918. 

Pvt,  1  Q.,  Sept,  1918.     Home  address,  3128  Second  St.,  Des  Moines, 

Iowa. 
BECK,  ALFRED,  Jr.    Enl.  June  1,  1916.    Corp.,  Aug.,  1917.     Sgt.,  Dec. 

20,  1917.    Trans,  to  Saumur  Art   School,  July  ^,   1918.    Home  ad- 
dress, Jamaica  Plain,  Mass. 
BELT,  GEORGE.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  12,  1919.    Home  address,  Leb- 
anon, Ind. 
BIRD,  HERBERT  C    Enl.  July  9,  1917.    Corp.,  Aug.  10,  1917.    Home 

address,  29  Monmouth  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 


242  BATTERY  A 

BLACKMUR,  PAUL.  Enl.  June  20,  1916.  Corp.,  May,  1917.  Sgt., 
July,  1917.     Disch.  to  accept  commission  in  Regular  Army,  Nov.  21, 

1917.  Home  address,  74  Elm  St.,  Quincy,  Mass. 

BLOOM,  ABRAHAM.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  12,  1919.    Home  address, 

378  Chelsea  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 
BOND,  LOWELL.    Enl.  Mar.  29,  1917.    Corp.,  May  16,  1918.    Home  ad- 
dress, 1445  Beacon  St.,  Waban,  Mass. 
BOWERS,  EDGAR  A.     Enl.  Aug.  8,  1917.    On  duty  with  Brigade  Hdq. 

from  Aug.  8,   1918.    Home  address,  6  Alexander   St.,  Framingham, 

Mass. 
BOWERS,  LAWRENCE  W.    Enl.  May  17,  1917.    Home  address,  22  Ath- 

erton  Rd.,  Brookline,  Mass. 
BOWMAN,  WILLIAM  E.    Enl.  May  24,  1917.    Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st 

F.  A.,  Aug.  23,  1917.    Home  address,  467  Huron  Ave.,  Cambridge, 

Mass. 
BROWN,  EVAN  D.    Enl.  May  23,  1917.    Mech.,  Aug.  10,  1917.    Home 

address,  Concord  St.,  Framingham,  Mass. 
BROWN,  LEO  D.    Enl.  May  23,  1917.    Trans,  to  Slst  Brig.,  F.  A.,  Aug. 

24,  1917.     Home  address,  223  Concord  St.,  Framingham,  Mass. 
BROUGHTON,  HENRY  W.,  Jr.    Enl.  June  19,  1916.    Trans,  to  Hdq., 

101st  F.  A.,  Aug.,  1917.    Died  of  wounds,  Oct.  8,  1918.     Home  ad- 
dress, 7  Lakeville  PI.,  Jamaica  Plain,  Mass. 
BURNHAM,  CLIFFORD  G.    Enl.  Apr.  19,  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  June,  1918. 

Home  address,  127  Park  St.,  Medford,  Mass. 
BURNS,  ROBERT.    Enl.  June  20,  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Oct.,  1917.    Home 

address,  302  W.  102nd  St,  New  York,  N.  Y. 
BUSH,  WILLIAM  C    Enl.  Sept.  19,  1917.    Trans,  to  Supply  Co.,  101st 

F.  A.,  Aug.  21,  1918.     Home  address,  Center  Point,  Texas. 
CADY,  ANSEL.    Enl.  Apr.  26,  1917.     Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st  F.  A., 

Nov.  3,  1917.     Home  address,  15  Gibb  St.,  Brookline,  Mass. 
CALKIN,  ERNEST  C    Enl.  May  16,  1917.    Home  address,  7  Greylock 

Rd.,  Allston,  Mass. 
CARLSON,  LEONARD   C.    Enl.   May  7,   1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Oct, 

1918.  Home  address,  1101  Morton  Ave.,  Des  Moines,  Iowa. 

CAMPBELL,  ENOS  A.  Enl.  Sept  19,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  17, 
1918.     Home  address,  Stillwell,  Okla. 

CARLSON  MARTIN  L.  Enl.  July  5,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May,  1918. 
Home  address,  Verona,  Neb. 

CAMPBELL,  JAMES  E.  Enl.  Sept  19,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  17, 
1918.    Home  address,  Catoosa,  Okla. 

CARLIN,  FRANK.  Enl.  May  24,  1917.  Disch.  at  Boxford,  Mass.,  Aug. 
31,  1917.    Home  address,  18  Hamilton  St,  Readville,  Mass. 

CARMICHAEL,  ALBERT  C.    Enl.  June  4,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July 

25,  1918.    Home  address,  York,  Neb. 

CALLAWAY,  ELMER  C.  Enl.  Sept  19,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  17,' 
1918.  Evacuated  to  hospital  and  dropped  from  rolls,  Oct.,  1918. 
Home  address,  Dewey,  Okla. 

CATTON,  PERCY.  Enl.  June  20,  1916.  Corp.,  May,  1917.  Sgt.,  Aug., 
1917.  Returned  to  U.  S.  as  instructor,  July  23,  1918.  Home  address, 
6  Cudworth  St.,  Medford,  Mass. 

CAVENY,  CHARLES.  Enl.  July  14,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  Corp., 
Dec,  1918.    Home  address,  1521  11th  St.,  Altoona,  Pa. 


APPENDIX  243 

CHANDLER,  ARTHUR  C.    Enl.  Apr.  26,  1917.    Corp.,  Nov.  26,  1917. 

Sgt.,  May  3,  1918.    Home  address,  North  Duxbury,  Mass. 
CHAPIN,  STUART.     Enl.  July  9,  1917.    On  special  duty  with  Divisional 

Entertainment    Troop    from    June,    191&     To    Cann.    University    of 

France,   Mar.    1,   1919.     Home  address,    127   School   St.,   Springfield, 

Mass. 
CHARLTON,  DANIEL  A.    Enl.  Sept.  6,  1917.    Pvt.,  1  CI.,  June,  1918. 

Home  address,  17  Newark  St.,  Roxbury,  Mass. 
CLARK,  JOHN  J.     Enl.  May  24,  1917.    Home  address,  117  Concord  St., 

Framingham,  Mass. 
CLARKE,  JAMES  F.    Enl.  Nov.  12,  1908.    Corp.,  Nov.  4,  1911.    Sgt., 

Sept.  27,  1913.     1st  Sgt.,  Oct.  28,  1915.    2nd  Lt.,  Dec,  1915.    1st  Lt, 

Jan.  4,  1917,    Returned  to  U.  S.  as  instructor,  July  23,  1918.    Home 

address,  15  Brimmer  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 
CLEARY,  JOHN  J.    Enl.  Apr.  5,  1917.    Pvt,  1  CI.,  Mar.  191&    Home 

address,  92  Greaton  Rd.,  W.  Roxbury,  Mass. 
COBB,  GEORGE  W.,  Jr.     Enl.  June  26.  1917.    To  Saumur  Art.  School, 

June,  1918.    Home  address,  437  5th  Ave.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 
COFFIN,  ARTHUR  G.    Enl.  May  10,  1917.    Disch.  at  Boxford,  Mass., 

July  31,  1917. 
COLBY,  WILLIAM  A.    Enl.  June  7,  1917.    Disch.  at  Boxford,  Mass., 

Sept.  5,  1917.     Home  address,  1537  Washington  St.,  W.  Newton,  Mass. 
COLTON,  JOSEPH  L.     Enl.  Oct.   15,   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.  as  horse 

shoer,   Sept.  24,   1918.    Home  address,   1813  N.  Hancock  St.,  Phila- 
delphia, Pa. 

CONNELL,  EDWARD  R.  Enl.  Mar.,  1915.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  17, 
1918.    Home  address,  1301  Orange  St.,  Muscatine,  Iowa. 

CONWAY,  CHARLES  E.  Enl.  May  24,  1917.  Corp.,  Aug.  28,  1917. 
Sgt.,  June  3,  1918.    Home  address,  122  Babcock  St.,  Brookline,  Mass. 

COPE,  ALBERT  E.  Enl.  Sept.  21,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  11,  1918. 
Pvt,  1  CI.,  June  20,  1918.  Home  address,  907  Lyndale  Ave.,  Tren- 
ton, N.  J. 

COOK,  JAMES  O.,  Jr.  Enl.  May  21,  1917.  Corp.,  July  3,  1918.  Sgt., 
Oct  2,  1918.  Supply  Sgt.,  Nov.  12,  1918.  Home  address,  58  Robe- 
son St.,  Jamaica  Plain,  Mass. 

COSGROVE,  JOSEPH  H.  Enl.  May  28,  1917.  Home  address,  61 
Thomas  Park,  So.  Boston,  Mass. 

CUNNINGHAM,  PHILIP.  Enl.  March  23.  1916.  Pvt,  1  CI.,  Aug.  10, 
1917.    Killed    in    action,   July   20,    1918.    Home   address,    Gloucester, 

Mass. 

CURTIS,  STANLEY  W.  Enl.  Apr.  26,  1917.  Corp.,  June  3,  1918.  Home 
address,  Scituate,  Mass. 

DAZEY,  FRANCIS  M.  H.  2d  Lieutenant  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  5,  1918. 
Returned  to  U.  S.,  Aug.,  1918. 

DAY,  CHAUNCEY  M.  Enl.  April  19,  1917.  Corp.,  Sept.  11.  19ia 
Home  address,  29  Farragut  Ave.,  Medford,  Mass. 

DAY,  DAVID.  Enl.  April  19,  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Aug.  10,  1917.  Home 
address,  29  Farragut  Ave.,  Medford,  Mass. 

DEAN,  WARREN  M.  Enl.  May  17,  1917.  Home  address,  2  Glenwood 
St.,  Maiden,  Mass. 

DENSMORE,  HARRISON.  Enl.  Sept.  20,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.  as 
cook.  May  17,  1918.    Home  address,  Morris,  Ala. 


244  BATTERY  A 

DERBY,  HENRY  S.    Enl.  Sept  7,  1917.    Corp.,  Aug.  14,  1918.    Home 

address,  81  Oxford  St.,  Somerville,  Mass. 
DEVANEY,   JOSEPH   P.    Enl.   Aug.    11,    1917.    Corp.,   Nov.    12,    1918. 

Home  address,  31  Tufts  St.,  Medford,  Mass. 
DeVEAU,  FREDERIC  J.     Enl.  Jan.  14,  1915.    Corp.,  Apr.,  1917.     Sgt, 

May,   1917,     Saumur  Artillery  Sch.,  Mar.  24,  1918.     Home  address, 

129  E.  69th  St.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 
DOHERTY,  JOHN  L.    Enl.  May  28,  1917.    Disch.  at  Boxford,  Mass., 

Sept.  S,  1917. 
DOTY    (DOUGHTY),    CHARLES    H.,   Jr.     Enl.    May    9,    1917.    Pvt, 

1  CI.,  Mar.,  1918.    Home  address,  44  Academy  St.,  Arlington.  Mass. 
DREW,   ARNO   L.    Enl.   July   17,    1914.    Corp.,    May,    1917.    Trans,   to 

Hdq.,  51st  F.  A.  Brig.,  Dec.  8,  1917.    Home  address,  97  St.  James 

Ave.,  Boston,  Mass. 
DUNKLEE,  LAURENCE  H.    Enl.  May  24,  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Nov.  12, 

1918.    Home  address,  32  Marlborough  Ave.,  Providence,  R.  L 
DUNN,  JOHN  J.     Enl.  June  18,   1917.    Trans,  from  Coast  Art.,  Aug., 

1917.     Pvt.,  1  CI,  Mar.  29,  1918.    Home  address,  3  Allen  Rd.,  Provi- 
dence, R.  I. 
DURANT,   HENRY  W.    Enl.   Dec.   16,   1915.     Corp.,  Apr.,   1917.     Sgt, 

May,  1917.    Disch.  to  accept  commission,  Nov.   16,  1917.     (Previous 

service  in  battery,  1909-1912).    Home  address,  Lowell  St,  Cambridge, 

Mass. 
DURDEN,  LEONARD  H.    Enl.  Oct  14,  1915.     (Chief  mechanic).    Gon- 

drecourt  Artillery  School,  Jan.,  Feb.,  Mar.,  1918.    Trans,  to  School  of 

Instruction,    Camp    De  Souges,    June    21,    1918.     Home    address,    27 

Dartmouth  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 
DYER,   CHARLES   W.     Enl.   Nov.  3,   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,   May   17, 

1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Nov.,  1918.    Home  address,  Chester  Springs,  Penn. 
DZIEKIEWZ,  ANDREW.    Enl.   Nov.   18,   1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May 

17,  1918.    Home  address,  Elizabeth,  N.  J. 
ELDRIDGE,  SETH  A.    Enl.  June  21,  1917.    Killed  in  action,  July  20, 

1918.  Home  address,  456  Quincy  Ave.,  Quincy,  Mass. 
EDWARDS,  ALBERT  E.    Enl.  Oct  4,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  12, 

1918.    Home  address,  R.  F.  D.  No.  1,  Box  208,  Sandy  Creek,  Pa. 
ELLIS,   CHARLES  R.     Enl.   Apr.   5,   1917.     Pvt.,   1  CI.,   Sept   1,   1917. 

Killed  in  action,  July  29,  1918.    Home  address,  Tamworth,  N.  H. 
ESTABROOK,  JAMES   E.    Enl.   May  8,   1917.    Corp.,   Dec.  21,   1918. 

Home  address,  88  Corey  St.,  W.  Roxbury,  Mass. 
EYKELBOSCH,  STANLEY  W.    Enl.  May  28,  1917.     Pvt,  1  CI,  Sept 

11,  1918.    Home  address,  20  Greenleaf  St,  Boston,  Mass. 
FALL,  ELMER  W.     Enl.  June  4,  1917.    Sgt,  Oct  27,  1917.    Supply  Sgt., 

Oct.  29,  1917.    1st  Sgt,  Oct.  3,  1918.    Home  address,  21  Pinkham  St, 

Lynn,  Mass. 
FARNSWORTH,  CLAUDIUS  R.    Enl.  Mar.  30,  1917.    Corp.,  Nov.  26, 

1917.    Killed  in  action,  July  13,  1918.    Home  address,  104  Prospect  St., 

Providence,  R.  I. 

FARRAR,  ARTHUR  B.    Enl.  May  17,  1917.    Home  address,  92  Eleanor 

St    CZhdsc^.    xvXrss 
FAULKNER,    WINTHROP.    Enl.    Oct.    28,    1915.    Corp.,    May,    1917. 

Sgt.,    Aug.,    1917.    Sent    to    Saumur    Artillery    School,    June,    1918. 

Home  address,  194  West  St,  Keene,  N.  H. 
FERNBERG,  BERTRAM  N.    Enl.  May  28,  1917.    Pvt,  1  CI,  Aug.,  1917. 

Home  address,  7  Forest  St.,  Attleboro,  Mass. 


APPENDIX  245 

FIELD,  DAVID  P.    Enl.  May  8,  1917.    Home  address,  9  Bradford  Ave., 

Somerville,  Mass. 
FISHER,  CHARLES.    Enl.  Apr.  20,  1917.    Mech.,  Nov.  1,  1917.    Home 

address,  339  8th  St.,  South  Boston,  Mass. 
FITZPATRICK,  FELIX.    Enl.  June  19,  1916.    Trans,  to  Btry.,  May  28. 

1918.    Pvt.,  1  CI.,  July  IS,  1918.    Home  address,  45  Adrian  St.,  Som- 
erville, Mass. 
FOLEY,  LOYAL  L.    Enl.  June  23,  1917.    Home  address,  1436  Astor  St, 

Chicago,  111. 
FOLEY,   THOMAS   C.     Enl.   Mar.   31,   1917.    Trans,   from   Coast   Art. 

Aug.,  1917.     Home  address,  14  Stoddard  St.,  Woburn,  Mass. 
FORREST,  HENRY  C.    Enl.   May  7,   1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  June  15, 

1918.     Pvt,  1  CI.,  Aug.,  1918.     Home  address,  Siloam  Springs,  Ark. 
FORZATO,    PIETRO.     Enl.   July   23,    1917.    Assgd.    to    Btry.,   Feb.   23, 

1918.    Home  address,  119  High  St,  Haverhill,  Mass. 
FOSTER,  WINTHROP  M.    Enl.  May  28,  1917.    Pvt,  1  CI.,  Jan.,  1918. 

Home  address,  7  Lewis  Rd.,  Winchester,  Mass. 
FOWLER,  ALBION  L.     Enl.  Apr.  2,  1917.    Corp.,  June  3,  1918.    Home 

address,  398  Massachusetts  Ave.,  Boston,  Mass. 
FOX,  AUSTIN  B.    Enl.  Sept  7,  1917.    Cook,  Jan.  1,  1918.    Home  ad- 
dress, 339  East  8th  St.,  South  Boston,  Mass. 
FRANK,  ARCHIBALD  C.    Enl.  June  8,  1917.    Cook,  Aug.,  19ia    Home 

address,  239  Ohio  Ave.,   Providence,  R.  I. 
FUCHS,  LOUIS.    Enl.  July  23,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec.,  1918.    Home 

address,  St.  Joe  Co.,  Lakeville,  Ind. 
FURNESS,  THOMAS  F.    Enl.  Mar.  23,  1916.    Corp.,  May,  1917.    Disch. 

to  accept  commission  in  Regular  Army,   Nov.  27,   1917.    Home  ad- 
dress, 34  Gorham  Ave.,  Brookline,  Mass. 
FYLER,  EDWIN  W.    Enl.  May  21,  1917.    Sent  to  hospital,  Oct  30,  1918. 

and  dropped  from  rolls.    Home  address,  17  Hamilton  St,  Readville, 

Mass. 
GAGE,   DANIEL   R.     Enl.   Mar.   20,    1916.     Sgt.,   Aug.,    1917.     1st   Sgt., 

Nov.  26,  1917.    Army  Candidates'  School  at  Saumur,  Mar.  24.  1918. 

(Previous  service  in  battery.  May,  1908 — Nov.,  1915).    Home  address. 

Concord,  Mass. 

GAMMELL,  ROBERT  H.  I.  Enl.  June  20,  1916.  Corp.,  May,  1917. 
Sgt.,  Nov.  26,  1917.  Disch.  Jan.  15,  1918,  to  accept  commission. 
Home  address,  22  St.  Botolph  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

GANEY,  MAURICE.  Enl.  June  24.  1916.  Disch.  at  Boxford,  Mass., 
Sept  5,  1917. 

GARNER,  REGINALD  C.  Enl.  May  31,  1917.  Home  address,  312 
Columbus  Ave.,  Boston,  Mass. 

GIFFORD,  CLIFTON  A.  Enl.  Apr.  30,  1917.  Corp.,  Aug.,  1917.  Sgt., 
May  16,  1918.    Home  address.  South  Westport  Mass. 

GLEASON,  LEVERETT  S.  Enl.  Apr.  26,  1917.  Pvt,  1  Q.,  Jan.  1. 
1918.  To  Sorbonne  University,  France,  Mar.,  1919.  Home  address, 
125  Vernon  St.,  Newton,  Mass. 

GLIDDEN,  ELMER  R.  Enl.  Aug.  15,  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CU  Nov.  1,  1917. 
Corp.,  May  3,  1918.  Sgt,  Aug.  7,  1918.  Returned  to  U.  S.  as  in- 
structor, Aug.  18,  1918.  Home  address,  2  Wildwood  Ten,  Winchester, 
Mass. 

GOODWIN,  HARRY  C  Enl.  July  24,  1917.  Corp.,  April  24,  1919. 
Home  address,  187  Grant  Ave.,  Medford,  Mass. 


246  BATTERY  A 

GOWDEY,  LOUIS  A.    Enl.  June  4,  1917.    Trans,  from  Coast  Art.,  Aug., 

1917.  Disch.  at  Boxford,  Mass.,  Sept.  5,  1917.     Home  address,  4  Han- 
over St.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

GOZZALDI,  RICHARD  S.  de.     Enl.  Mar.  23,  1916.    Trans,  to  Btry.  B, 

1st   Me.   Heavy  Art.,    Sept.  6,    1917.     Home  address,  91    Brattle   St.. 

Cambridge,  Mass. 
GRIMBALL,  JOHN  B.    1st  Lt.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Jan.  1,  1918.    Trans,  to 

1st  Div.,  Apr.,  1918. 
HACKETT,  WILLIAM  L.    Enl.  May  31,   1917.    Mech.,  Sept.  11,   1918. 

Chief  Mech.,  Dec.  1,  1918.     Home  address,  14  Bates  Rd.,  Watertown, 

Mass. 
HAFER,  EDWARD  F.     Enl.  May  8,  1917.    Corp.,  Dec.  20,  1917.    Home 

address,  Hadden  Hall,  Avondale,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 
HALL,  HENRY  I.,  Jr.     Enl.  Apr.  12,  1917.    Home  address,  Edgemore 

Rd.,  Quincy,  Mass. 
HARLOW,   FRANK  J.     Enl.  Feb.  14,   1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Nov.   14, 

1918.  Home  address,  Stoddard,  N.  H. 

HARDESTY,  JAS.   W.     Enl.   Apr.  22,   1917.     Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July  20. 

1918.     Sent  to   S.   O.   S.   hospital  and   dropped   from   rolls,   Aug.   30, 

1918.     Home  address,  115  W.  Fourth  St.,  Spokane,  Wash. 
HARDING,   RICHARD   F.    Enl.   Apr.    1,    1917.    Corp.,   Aug.   28,   1917. 

Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st  F.  A.,  July  9,   1918.    Home  address,  125 

King  St.,  Franklin,  Mass. 
HARRIMAN,  EARL  H.     Enl.  June  30,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec.  13, 

1918.     Home  address,  422  Illinois  Ave.,  Stevens  Point,  Wis. 
HARRINGTON,  IRA  D.    Enl.  Oct.  2,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  17, 

1918.    Cook,  Dec.  1,  1918.    Home  address.  Star  Route,  Princeton,  Mo. 
HART.   JOHN    J.    Enl.    June   20,    1916.     Saddler.     Home   address,    132 

N  St.,  South  Boston,  Mass. 
HECKER,   EUGENE  A.    Enl.   May  17,   1917.     Supply   Sgt.,  July,   1917. 

Trans,  to  Btry.  B,  1st  Me.  Heavy  Art.,  Sept.  6,  1917.    Home  address, 

104  Avon  St.,  Cambridge,  Mass. 
HELFENBURG,  GUS.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  12,  1919.    Home  address, 

69  N.  Village  Ave.,  Rockville  Centre,  L.  I.,  N.  Y. 
HIBBARD,  WARREN  L.     Enl.  Apr.  1,  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CL,  Nov.  12,  1917. 

Home  address,  31  Wrenthan  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 
HOAR,  STEADMAN  B.    Enl.  Oct.  20,  1915.     Sgt.,  May,  1917.     Saumur 

Art.   School,   Nov.   27,   1917.     Home   address,   72   Main   St.,   Concord, 

Mass. 
HOLLIFIELD,  WARREN  L.     Enl.  Jan.  30,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  June 

13,  1918.     Home  address,  Edom,  Texas. 
HOMMEL,  JAMES  S.     Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2d  Lt,  May  5,  1918.     1st  Lt., 

Oct.  19,  1918.     Home  address,  Newport,  Tenn. 
HOOPER.   EDWARD   A.    Enl.   May  4,    1916.    Corp.,   June-Dec,   1917. 

Killed    in   action,   July  29,    1918.     Home   address,   71   Thorndike   St., 

Brookline,  Mass. 
HOSE,   LEWIS  J.    Enl.   Dec.   6,   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,  June  5,   1918. 

Trans,    to    Military    Police,    Mar.    1,    1919.     Home    address,    Hagers- 

town,  Md. 
HORN,  HARRY  E.    Enl.  Mar.  30,   1917.  Corp.,  Aug.  14,   1918.    Home 

address,  29  Maywood  St.,  Roxbury,  Mass. 
HOUSTON.  GRAFTON.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2nd  Lt.,  Jan.  1,  1918.     Re- 
turned to  the  U.  S.  as  instructor,  July  15,  1918.    Home  address,  San 

Antonio,  Texas. 


APPENDIX  247 

HOWE,  HAROLD  A.    Enl.  Mar.  29,  1917.    Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st 

F.  A.,  Aug.  23,  1917.    Home  address,  214  Essex  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 
ROWLAND,  RAYMOND  L.    Enl.  June  1,  1917.    Killed  in  action,  July 

29,  1918.     Home  address,  28  Aspen  Rd.,  Swampscott,  Mass. 
HOYT,  WARREN.     Enl.  May  28.  1917.    Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st  F.  A., 

Feb.  12,  1918.     Home  address,  356  Mass.  Ave.,  Boston,  Mass. 
HUDSON,  WILLIS   L.    Enl.   Dec.   6,   1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  June   13, 

1918.    Home  address.  May  Pearl,  Texas. 
HUGHES,   FRANK  J.    Enl.   Mar.   30,   1917.    Trans,    from   Coast   Art., 

Aug.,  1917.    Trans,  to  1st  Me.  Heavy  Art.,  at  Boxford,  Mass.,  Sept.  6, 

1917.    Home  address,  469  E.  6th  St.,  So.  Boston,  Mass. 
HUMMELL,  DAVID  S.     Enl.  June  23,  1918.    Assgd.  Btry.  D,  Dec.  13, 

19ia     Home  address,  R.  F.  D.  No.  1,  Bremen,  Ind. 
HUNT,  IRVING  M.     Enl.  Apr.  30,   1917.     Horse  shoer,  June,  1917,  to 

Dec,  1918.    Home  address.  So.  Hanover,  Mass. 
HUNTINGTON,  FREDERIC  D.    Enl.  Apr.,  1909.    Corp.,  June  8,  1914. 

Sgt,  June,   1915.     1st  Sgt.,  Jan.,   1917.     2nd  Lt.,  Apr.,  1917.     1st  Lt., 

June,  1917.    Capt.,  July,  1917.    Home  address,  237  Mass.  Ave.,  Lex- 
ington, Mass. 
HURLEY,  WILFRED  C.    Enl.  Mar.  15,  1916.    Trans,  from  Coast  Art.. 

Aug.  26,  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Jan.,  1918.    Home  address,  43  Highland 

Ave.,  Arlington,  Mass. 
JAMES,  BENJAMIN.     Enl.  Aug.  24,  1917.    Sgt.,  Aug.  28,  1917.  Wounded 

in   action,    Apr.   21,    1918.     (Previous    service    in   battery,    1916-1917). 

Evacuated   to   hospital   and    dropped    from   rolls.     Home   address,    52 

Browne  St.,  Brookline,  Mass. 
JAMES,  HAROLD  K.    Enl.  Mar.  29,  1917.    Corp.,  Aug.  14,  191&    Home 

address,  26  Clinton  St.,  Cambridge,  Mass. 
JOHNSON,  CARL  P.    Enl.  May  9,  1917.    Corp.,  Nov.  10,  1918.    Home 

address,  50  Prescott  St.,  Readville,  Mass. 
JOHNSON,  CHARLES  B.,  Jr.    Enl.  May  10,  1917.     Sgt.,  Nov.  26,  1917. 

Trans,  to  Saumur  Art.  Sch.,  Aug.  21,  1918.     Returned  to  Btry.,  Dec. 

27,   1918.    Commissioned  2nd  Lt.,  May  23,  1919.    Home  address,  51 

Main  St.,  Concord,  Mass. 
JOHNSON,  GEO.  A.    Enl.  Apr.  12,  1917.    Home  address,  Arizona-Bing- 

hampton  Mines,  Stoddard,  Ariz. 
JENNINGS,  CHRISTIAN  L.     Enl.  Aug.  12,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec. 

13,  1918.     Home  address,  7  So.  Front  St.,  Harrisburg,  Pa. 
JANES,  LLOYD  E.    Enl.  Aug.  2,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec.  13,  1918. 

Home  address,  202  Ohio  St.,  Merrill,  Wis. 
JENSEN,  PETER  F.    Enl.  May  28,  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CI,  Aug.,  1918.    Home 

address,  19  Thomas  St.,  Jamaica  Plain,  Mass 
JOPP,  KENNETH   B.     Enl.   Mar.   15,   1917.     Pvt.,    1    CI.,  Jan.   1,   1918. 

Returned  to  U.   S.,   Apr.,   1918.     Back  to  Btry.,  Aug..   1918.    Home 

address,  21  Waren  St.,  Winchester,  Mass. 
JOYCE,  MARTIN  W.     Enl.  Feb.  7,  1917.     Trans,  from  Coast  Art.,  Aug. 

23,  1917.     Pvt,  1  CI.,  Dec.  1,  1918.    Home  address,  21  Roberts  Ave, 

W.  Roxbury,  Mass. 
KENNEDY,  CARL  Y.    Enl.  May  25.  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Sept.  11,  19ia 

Home  address,  58  Fessenden  St.,  Portland,  Me. 
KENNEDY.  JOSEPH  C.     Enl.  June  1,  1917.    Corp.,  Jan.  3,  19ia    Home 

address,  14  Brockton  St.,  Haverhill,  Mass. 
KENT,  GEORGE  E.    Enl.  Apr.  30,  1917.    Home  address,  264  Lake  Ave., 

Newton  Highlands,  Mass. 


248  BATTERY  A 

KILBOURNE,   AUSTIN.    Assgnd.   to  Btry.   as  2nd   Lt,   Jan.   1,   1918. 

Returned  to  U.  S.,  Apr.  19,  1918.    Home  address,  128  High  St.,  New 

Haven,  Conn. 
KILLEEN,  JAMES  M.    Enl.  Aug.  18,  1917.    Trans,  to  Corps  of  Intelli- 
gence   Police,    Oct.   4.    1918.    Home   address,   244    North    Main    St., 

Concord,  N.  H. 
KIMBALL,  PARKER  S.    Enl.  Apr.  12,  1917.     Corp.,  Jan.  5,  1918.    Home 

address,  76  Bartlett  St.,  Maiden,  Mass. 
KING,   WILLIAM  G.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  as   Sgt.,  Mar.   12,   1919.    Home 

address,  578  Park  Ave.,  Columbus,  Ohio. 
KIPER,  RALPH.    Enl.  Mar.  27,   1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July  20,   1918. 

Home  address,  Downs,  Kan. 
KIRWAN,  THOMAS  A.    Enl.   May  25,   1916.     Corp.,  Apr.,  1917.     Sgt, 

May,    1917.     2nd   Lt.,   July,    1917.     1st   Lt,   Nov.   9,    1917.     Assgd.   to 

Hdq.  Co.,  Nov.  27,  1917.     Home  address,  246  Newbury  St.,  Boston, 

Mass. 
KNIGHT,   LEWIS  R.    Enl.   May   17,   1917.     Pvt.,   1   CI.,   Dec.   1,   1918. 

Home  address,  175  Washington  St.,  Maiden,  Mass. 
KISON,   GEORGE  C.     Enl.   May  21,   1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,   Sept.   13, 

1918.     Home  address,  Worthington,  Pa. 
KNAUTH,  FELIX  W.    Enl.  Dec,  1914.    Corp.,  Apr.,  1917.     Sgt.,  May, 

1917.     2d   Lt,    June,    1917.     1st   Lt,   July,    1917.     Assgd.    to   Btry.   C, 

Oct.  26,  1917.    Home  address,  302  W.  76th  St.,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

KNAUTH,  VICTOR  W.  Enl.  May  17,  1917.  Corp.,  May,  1917.  Sgt., 
July,  1917.  Disch.  to  accept  commission,  Nov.  16,  1917.  (Previous 
service  in  battery,  1914 — 1916).  Home  address,  302  W.  76th  St.,  New 
York,  N.  Y. 

KNOX,  HARWOOD  W.  Enl.  May  31,  1917.  Corp.,  Aug.  14,  1918. 
Home  address,  19  Bowker  St,  Brookline,  Mass. 

•KUNHARDT,   GEORGE   E.,   Jr.     Enl.    May  8,    1917.    Corp.,   Aug.    10, 

1917.  Sgt,  Nov.  26,  1917.  1st  Sgt.,  July  15,  1918.  Saumur  Art  Sch., 
Sept  28,  1918.  Returned  to  Btry.,  Dec.  29,  1918.  Commissioned  2nd 
Lt.,  March  23,  1919.    Home  address,  100  Mt.  Vernon  St,  Boston,  Mass. 

LAITY,  HOWARD  M.  Enl.  May  23,  1917.  Trans,  from  Coast  Art., 
Aug.  28,  1917.    Home  address,  Wakefield,  R.  I. 

LANCASTER,   BRUCE.    Enl.   May  7,   1916.    Corp..   June,   1917  — June, 

1918.  Home  address,  18  Walnut  S.,  Worcester,  Mass. 

LANCASTER,  EARL.  Enl.  Apr.  21,  1917.  Hon.  Disch.,  July  30,  1917, 
at  Boxford,  Mass. 

LANCASTER,  SOUTHWORTH.  Enl.  June  23,  1916.  Corp.,  May,  1917. 
On  special  duty  with  Military  Police,  Aug.,  1917,  to  Mar.,  1919.  Home 
address,  18  Walnut  St,  Worcester,  Mass. 

LANE,  EDWARD  D.  Enl.  May  17,  1917.  Corp.,  Nov.  10,  1918.  Home 
address,  35  Everett  St.,  Arlington,  Mass. 

LAWRENCE,  DAVIS  O.  Enl.  May  9,  1917.  Pvt,  1  CI.,  Nov.  1,  1917. 
Killed  in  action,  April  21,  1918.  Home  address,  48  Shore  Drive,  Win- 
throp,  Mass. 

LAWRENCE,  RALPH  G.  Enl.  June  14,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Apr.  28, 
1918.  Trans,  to  Div.  Hdq.,  July,  1918.  Home  address,  Stallbridge, 
Dorset,  Eng. 

LeMOINE,  ALBERT  Z.  Enl.  May  8,  1917.  Pvt,  1  CI.,  Mar.  29,  1918. 
Trans,  to  Judge  Advocate's  office,  1st  Army  Corps,  Apr.  12,  1918. 
Home  address,  14  Union  Ave.,  Framingham,  Mass. 


APPENDIX  249 

LINSEY,  JOE.    Enl.   Sept.   19,   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,   May  17,   1918. 

Home  address,  De  Kalb,  Texas. 
LLOYD,  FREDERICK  T.    Enl.  May  10,  1917.    Corp.,  May,  1917.    Disch. 

Mar.   5,   1918.    Returned  to  U.   S.    Home  address,   1735  Washtenaw 

Ave.,  Ann  Arbor,  Mich. 
LOCKE,  CLARENCE  E.    Enl.  May  31,  1917.    Home  address,  127  Vin- 
ton St.,  Melrose,  Mass. 
LOOMIS,  HUBERT  H.    Enl.  July  19,  1917.    Home  address,  Brookcsby 

Rd.,  Bedford,  Mass. 
LORENSEN,  FRED  J.    Enl.  May  31,  1917.    Cook,  Aug.  10,  1917.    Home 

address,  369  Lynnfield  St.,  Lynn,  Mass. 
LUING,  LESLIE  A.    Enl.  Apr.  8,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Nov.  16,  1918. 

Home  address,  Milford,  la. 
LYFORD,  RICHARD  T.    Enl.  June  7,  1917.    Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Sept.  1,  1917. 

Home  address,  11  Pitman  St.,  Concord,  N.  H. 
LYNCH,  GEORGE  N.    Enl.  Apr.  9,  1917.     Bugler,  Aug.  10,  1917.    Trans. 

to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st  F.  A.,  June  4,  1918.    Home  address,  3  Park  Vale 

Ave.,  Brookline,  Mass. 
LYNCH,  FRANCIS  M.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Nov.  14,  1918.    Home  address, 

2101  E.  Ninth  St.,  McKeesport,  Pa. 
MacDONALD,   EDWARD    N.     Enl.    May   24,    1917.    Home   address,   6 

Deering  Rd.,  Mattapan,  Mass. 
MacDONALD,  FRED  E.    Enl.  May  4,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July  23, 

1918.     Mech.,    Dec.    1,    1918.    Home    address,    803    Lyon    St.,    Des 

Moines,  la. 
MacFARLAND,   EDWIN  C.    Enl.  May  23,   1917.    Corp.,  May  3,   1918. 

Sgt.,  Sept.  3,  1918.     Home  address,  18  Irwin  St.,  Winthrop,  Mass. 
MacGREGOR,  WILLARD  D.    Enl.  Apr.  27,  1916.    Trans,  from  Supply 

Co.,  Jan.  23,  1918.    Home  address,  628  Mass.  Ave.,  Boston,  Mass. 
MacNAMEE,  FRANK  A.,  Jr.    Enl.  Oct.  1,  1915.    Sgt,  Apr.,  1917.    1st 

Sgt.,  Apr.,  1917.     1st  Lt.,  May  IS,  1917.     In  command  of  battery  from 

April  21  to  Oct.  2,  1918.    Trans  from  B  Battery,  Nov.,  1917.    Trans. 

to  Art  School  at  Coetquidan  as  instructor,  Oct.,  1918.    Home  address, 

690  Madison  Ave.,  Albany,  N.  Y.         , 
MAGUIRE,   THOMAS   G.     Enl.   Mar.   7,"   1917.    Trans,   to   Btry.    from 

Coast  Art.,  Aug.  24,  1917.     Home  address,  Clapp  St.,  Dorchester,  Mass. 

MANN,  ALDEN  T.,  Jr.  Enl.  Apr.  5,  1917.  Corp.,  Aug.,  1917.  Trans, 
to  Q.  M.  C,  Dec.  22,  1917.  Home  address,  125  King  St.,  Franklin, 
Mass. 

MANN,  ELIOT  J.  B.  Enl.  May  5,  1914.  Trans,  from  Supply  Co.  to 
Btry.  A,  Apr.  8,  1918.  A.  W.  O.  L.  and  dropped  from  rolls,  Aug.  26, 
1918.     Home  address,  7  Whittemore  Rd.,  Medford,  Mass. 

MARRETT,  EDWARD  H.  Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2d  Lt.  from  F  Btry., 
Sept.  6,  1918.  Trans,  to  F.  Btry.,  Sept  11,  1918.  (Previous  service  in 
battery,  1915—1917). 

MARTIN,  EDWARD  M.  Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2nd  Lt,  Jan.  11,  1918. 
Trans,  to  1st  Division,  Apr.,  1918. 

MARTIN,  EDWIN  T.  Enl.  May  7,  1917.  Pvt,  1  CI.,  May  3.  1918. 
Home  address,  1240  Pleasant  St,  Marblehead,  Mass. 

MARTIN,  WALTER  B.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  May  17,  1918.  Home  address, 
R.  F.  D.  No.  2,  Callaway,  Va. 

MARSHALL,  HOWARD  L.  Enl.  Nov.  30,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar. 
1,  1918.    Home  address,  Deale,  Md. 


250  BATTERY  A 

MATHEWS,  ERNEST  C.    Enl.  May  8,  1917.    Trans,  to  Sup.  Co.,  101st 

F.  A.,  Aug.  24,  1917.    Home  address,  22  Lincoln  St.,  Winchester,  Mass. 
MAURAN,  FRANK  A.,  Jr.    Assgd.   to  Btry.   as   1st  Lt.,  Jan.   1,   1918. 

Trans,  to  1st  Div.,  Apr.,  1918. 
McARDLE,  HUGH  J.    Enl.  Apr.  28,  1915.    Trans,  from  Coast  Art.,  Aug. 

25,  1917.     Pvt.,  1  CK,  Sept.  11,  1918.    Home  address,  130  Myrtle  St., 

Boston,  Mass. 
McCANN,  NORMAN  F.    Enl.  June  1.  1917.    Corp.,  Aug.  14,  1918.    Sgt., 

Dec.  2,  1918.     Home  address,  359  Pleasant  St.,  Belmont,  Mass. 
McCarthy,   GEORGE   M.     Enl.   Apr.  24,   1917.    Corp.,   May  3,   1918. 

Wounded,   sent  to  hospital,   July   27,    1918,   and   dropped    from   rolls. 

Home  address,  301  E.  Eagle  St.,  So.  Boston,  Mass. 
McSWEENEY,   JOHN    M.    Enl.   June    15,   1914.    Corp.   to   June,   1918. 

Trans,  from  Coast  Art.,  Aug.  25,  1917.    Home  address,  30  Circuit  St., 

W.  Med  ford,  Mass. 
MERRIAM,  JOSEPH  C.    Enl.  Dec.  3,  1914.   Corp.,  Apr.,  1917.    Sgt..  July, 

1917.  Trans,   to   Saumur   Art.   Sch.,   Apr.   13,    1918.    Home  address, 
Framingham,  Mass. 

MOORE,  JAMES  J.    Enl.  May  1,  1917.    Honorably  disch.,  July  30,  1917. 

MORRIS,  TEMPLE  L.  Enl.  June  11,  1917.  Trans,  from  Coast  Art, 
Aug.  24.  1917.  Sent  to  hospital,  Mar.  31,  1918,  and  dropped  from 
rolls.     Home  address.  111  Pond  St.,  Providence,  R.  L 

MORTON,  CLARENCE  F.  Enl.  May  17,  1917.  Trans,  to  Supply  Co., 
101st  F.  A.,  Aug.  24,  1917.  Home  address,  117  Berkley  St.,  Lawrence, 
Mass. 

MOYNIHAN,  OWEN  E.  Enl.  June  30,  1916.  Trans,  from  Btry.  F, 
101st  F.  A.,  Jan.  12,  1918.  Horseshoer,  Mar.  1,  1918.  Home  address, 
10  Japonica  St.,  Salem,  Mass. 

MURPHY,  VINCENT  C.  Enl.  May  28,  1917.  Home  address,  75  Brad- 
field  Ave.,  Roslindale,  Mass. 

MERSKY,  MOSES.    Enl.  Apr.   13,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  A,  Nov.  16, 

1918.  Home  address,  290  Hillside  Ave.,  Waterbury,  Conn. 
MURRAY,    PETER   J.   Jr.    Enl.   Aug.   7,    1917.    Corp.,   Nov.    12,    1918. 

Home  address,  15  Clark  St.,  Framingham,  Mass. 
MYERS,  WILLIAM  P.    Enl.  Jan.  20,  1916.    Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st 
F.  A.,  Aug.  10,  1917.    Home  address,  5  Kenney  St.,  Jamaica  Plain, 
Mass. 

NELSON.  JOHNL.  Enl.  May  23,  1917.  Home  address,  280  Highland 
St.,  Worcester,  Mass. 

NICHOLS,  CHARLES  E.  Enl.  May  21,  1917.  Hon.  disch.  at  Boxford, 
Mass.,  July  31,  1917.  Home  address,  c/o  Nichols  &  Son,  Roxbury 
Crossing,  Mass. 

NICKERSON,  RALPH  C.  Enl.  June  4,  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Sept.  11, 
1918.    Home  address.  Church  St.,  W.  Dennis,  Mass. 

NOLAN,  LUKE  A.  Enl.  Nov.  2,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Nov.  11.  1918. 
Home  address,  4  Valley  St.,  Port  Carbon,  Pa. 

NOONAN,  DANIEL  A.  Enl.  Apr.  9,  1917.  A.  W.  O.  L.  and  dropped 
from  rolls,  Aug.  24,  1918.  Home  address,  849  Fourth  St.,  So.  Boston, 
Mass. 

NOBLES,  JONOTHAN  O.  Enl.  Sept.  19,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.  as 
cook.  May  2,  1918.    Home  address,  Green  Cave  Spring,  Fla. 

NORTON,  JAMES  R.  Enl.  Apr.  13,  1918.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Nov.  16 
1918.    Home  address,  1031  Park  St.,  Kansas  City,  Mo. 


APPENDIX  251 

O'DAY,  HENRY  V.  Enl.  Apr.  26,  1917.  Corp.,  July  1,  1918.  Sgt., 
Sept.  3,  1918.    Home  address,  36  Davis  Ave.,  Brookline,  Mass. 

O'MELIA,  LAWRENCE  P.  Enl.  Mar.  28,  1917.  Trans,  from  Coast 
Art.,  Aug.  26.  1917.  Trans:  to  Btry.  B,  1st  Me.  Heavy  Art,  at  Box- 
ford,  Mass.,  Sept.  6,  1917.  Home  address,  144  Tyler  St.,  Boston. 
Mass. 

O'NEIL,  PATRICK.  Enl.  June  23,  1916.  Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st 
F.  A.,  July  28,  1917. 

O'SHAUGHNESSY,  CHARLES  W.,  Jr.  Enl.  Apr.  27,  1917.  Home 
address,  141  Charles  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

O'LEARY,  MICHAEL  J.  Enl.  June  10,  1917.  Hon.  disch.  at  Boxford, 
Mass.,  July  30,  1917. 

O'LAUGHLIN,  JOSEPH  P.  Enl.  Mar.  26,  1917.  Hon.  disch.  at  Box- 
ford,  Mass.,  July  30,  1917.  Home  address,  54  Cypress  St.,  Brookline, 
Mass. 

PARKER,  HAROLD  L.  Enl.  May  10,  1917.  (Previous  service  in  bat- 
tery, Apr.,  1911 — Apr.,  1914).  Home  address.  Hotel  Somerset,  Bos- 
ton, Mass. 

PEABODY,  ELLERY,  Jr.  Enl.  May  28,  1917.  Corp.,  Mar.,  1918.  Sgt., 
Aug.  14,  1918.  Died  of  wounds,  Oct.  24,  1918.  Home  address,  70 
Temple  St.,  W.  Newton,  Mass. 

PETERSON,  HAROLD  A.  Enl.  June  4,  1917.  Cook  to  Apr.,  1918. 
Trans,  to  Hdq.,  26th  Div.,  Oct.  21,  1918.  Home  address,  18  Andrews 
St.,  Everett,  Mass. 

PETTEE,  JOHN  T.  Enl.  Aug.  9,  1917.  Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st  F.  A., 
Aug.  23,  1917.     Home  address,  31  Manning  St.,  Medford,  Mass. 

PILGRIM,  ALFRED  D.  Enl.  May  10,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July  25, 
1918.    Home  address,  523  N.  19th  St.,  Des  Moines,  la. 

PLANTE,  RAOUL  H.  Enl.  Aug.  8,  1917.  Pvt,  1  CI.,  May  3,  1918. 
Home  address,  20  South  St.,  Framingham,  Mass. 

PLUMMER,  CHARLES  W.  Enl.  Nov.,  1911.  Corp.,  June  30,  1915. 
Sgt.,  Apr.,  1917.  2nd  Lt.,  July,  1917.  Trans,  to  Army  Aeronautical 
Sch.,  Tours,  France,  Jan..  1918.  Killed  in  action,  Aug.,  1918.  Home 
address,  9  Willow  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

PLYMPTON,  ALLAN  H.  Enl.  June  21,  1917.  Home  address,  25  Liver- 
more  Rd.,  Wellesley  Hills,  Mass. 

PONTRISH,  EDWARD  N.  Enl.  June  28,  1918.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec. 
18,  1918.     Home  address,  608  E.  Ornsby  St.,  Louisville,  Ky. 

POTTER,  FREDERICK  W.  Enl.  Mar.  29,  1917.  Corp.,  Aug.  14,  1918. 
Home  address,  6-8  High  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

POWELL,  ALFRED  E.  Enl.  May  18,  1917.  Trans,  from  Coast  Art., 
Aug.  25,  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  May  3,  1918.  Home  address,  82  Charles 
Field  St.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

PRATT,  JOHN  G.  Enl:  May  7,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July  25,  1918. 
Home  address.  Fort  Des  Moines,  Des  Moines,  la. 

PREBENSEN,  HAROLD  I.  Enl.  May  28,  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  July,  1918. 
Home  address,  11  Sacramento  St.,  Somerville,  Mass. 

PRIEBE,  HENRY  G.  Enl.  June  10,  1915.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Aug.  25, 
1917.  Wounded,  sent  to  hospital,  Oct.  25,  1918,  and  dropped  from 
rolls.     Home  address,  25  Ash  Ave.,  Somerville,  Mass. 

QUINN,  EDWARD  G.  Enl.  Aug.  15.  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  June  15,  1918. 
Home  address.  79  Harvard  Ave.,  W.  Medford,  Mass. 

RAILEY,  THOMAS  W.  Enl.  May  ZJ,  1918.  Home  address,  79  Har- 
vard Ave.,  W.  Medford,  Mass. 


252  BATTERY  A 

REICHERT.  WILLIAM'  H.    Enl.  Sept.  26,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar. 

11,  1918.  Home  address,  2291  Niagara  St.,  Buflfalo,  N.  Y. 
RENTY,    DOMINICK.    Enl.    Oct.    4,    1917.    Assgd.    to   Btry.,   June    19, 

1918.  Home  address,  4  Wood  Court,  Southbridge,  Mass. 
RICHARDSON,  LAWRENCE  B.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2nd  Lt,  Jan.  1, 

1918.    To  Saumur  as  instructor,  Apr.,  1918. 

RICKER,  HAROLD  K.  Enl.  June  1,  1917.  Corp.,  Nov.  12,  1918.  Home 
address,  15  Bennett  St.,  Hudson,  Mass. 

RIGBY,  NORBERT  E.  Enl.  May  17.  1917.  Pvt,  1  CI.,  Jan.  1,  1918. 
Killed  in  action,  Apr.  21,  1918.  Home  address,  185  Davis  Ave.,  Brook- 
line,  Mass. 

RIPLEY,  EDWARD  N.  Enl.  June  1,  1916.  Corp.,  June,  1917.  Sgt., 
Nov.,  1917.  Killed  in  action,  May  27,  1918.  Home  address,  82  Bel- 
tram  St.,  Maiden,  Mass. 

RITCHIE,  LYELL  H.  Enl.  June  26,  1917.  Corp.,  May  3,  191&  Sgt., 
Nov.  10.  1918.    Home  address,  27  Third  St.,  Hinsdale,  111. 

RODLIFF,  DENNETT  D.  Enl.  June  4,  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Aug.,  1918. 
Home  address,  60  Mapleton  St.,  Brighton,  Mass. 

ROGERS,  CLIFFORD.  Enl.  Nov.  19,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  11, 
1918.    Home  address,  Hornerstown,  N.  J. 

ROGERS,  HORATIO.    Enl.  July  9,  1917.    Corp..  Aug.  10,  1917.    Home 

address,  381  Hammond  St.,  Chestnut  Hill,  Mass. 
ROGERS.  WILLIAM   B.,  Jr.    Enl.   May  9,   1917.    Corp.,  June  3,   1917. 

Sgt.,  July  1,  1918.    Home  address,  Westfield  St.,  Dedham,  Mass. 
ROGERS,  DONALD.    Enl.  May  11,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July,  1918. 

Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Nov.  12,  1918.    Home  address,  Wapello,  Iowa. 
ROWAN,  WILLIAM  E.    Enl.  Apr.  9,  1917.    Corp.,  Nov.  26,  1917.    Sgt., 

Aug.  1,  1918.    Trans,  to  Art.  Sch.  of  Instr.,  Le  Courneau,  Aug.  11, 

1918.    Home  address,  71  Chester  St.,  AUston,  Mass. 
RUSHTON,  JOHN.    Assgd.   to  Btry.  as   Corp.,   Mar.   12,   1919.    Home 

address,  R.  F.  D.  No.  2,  Saluda,  S.  C. 
SAINDON,  WILLIS  J.  N.    Enl.  Mar.  2,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Aug.  28, 

1917,  from  Me.  Coast  Art.    Pvt,  1  CI.,  Mar.  28,  1918.    Home  address, 
46  Third  St.,  Auburn,  Me. 

SANICH,  LAZO.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  12,  1919.    Home  address,  327 

Fellmore  St.,  Gary,  Ind. 
SANSONE,  DOMINICK.    Enl.  Nov.  20,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  12, 

1918.  Home  address,  132  West  St.,  Bayonne,  N.  J. 

SAWYER,   ENOS    C.    Enl.    May   2,    1917.     Pvt.,    1    CI,    Mar.    1,    1918. 

Killed  in  action,  Apr.  21,  1918.    Home  address,  7  Clinton  St.,  Cam- 
bridge, Mass. 
SCANLON,   BERNARD   P.    Enl.   May  24,   1917.    Trans,  to  Hdq.   Co., 

101st  F.  A.,  July  30,   1917.    Home  address,  844  Main   St.,   Melrose, 

Mass. 
SEALE.  WILLIAM  A.    Enl.  Mar.  29,  1917.    Wounded,  sent  to  hospital, 

Oct.  20,   1918,  and  dropped  from  rolls.    Home  address,  330  Walnut 

St.,  Wellesley  Hills,  Mass. 
SHAHAN,  GEORGE  C.    Enl.   Aug.   1,   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,  Jan.  9, 

1918.    Corp.,  Sept.  3,  1918.     Sgt,  Nov.  12,  1918.    Stable  Sgt,  Nov.  12, 

1918.    Home  address,  Chromo,  Colorado, 
SHAW,  RICHARD.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  1st  Lt,  May  5,  1918.    Sent  to 

2nd  Corps  Art  Sch.  as  instructor,  June,  1918. 
SHEDD,  JAMES  A.    Enl.  May  8,  1917.    Home  address,  266  Brookline 

Ave.,  Boston,  Mass. 


APPENDIX  253 

SHELLED Y,  LOUIS  P.    Enl.  May  9,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  A,  July  25. 

1918.    Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Nov.  12,  1918.    Home  address,  3001  Cambridge  St., 

Des  Moines,  la. 
SHOOBS,  NAHUM  H.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2nd  Lt.,  Sept.,  1918.    Trans. 

to   Gondrecourt,   Jan.,    1919.    Home   address    640    Eastern    Parkway, 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 
SHACKELFORD,  WILLIAM  A.    Enl.  May  9,  1917.    Pvt.,  1  CI.,  June  1, 

1917.    Trans,  to  Q.  M.  C,  N.  A.,  Dec.  22,  1917.    Returned  to  Btry., 

Feb.  1,  1919,    Home  address,  1  Linden  St.,  Readville,  Mass. 
SIGEL,  MORRIS.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  12,  1919.    Home  address,  159 

Flushing  Ave.,  Astoria,  L.  I.,  N.  Y. 
SHEPLEY,  GEORGE  F.    Enl.  May  9,  1917.    Home  address,  Warren  St., 

Brookline,  Mass. 
SHERMAN,  HOMER  N.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar  12,  1919.    Home  address, 

R.  F.  D  No.  3,  Troy,  Idaho. 
SIMMONS,  WILLIAM  A.    Enl.  Nov.  22,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar. 

11,  1918.    Pvt..  1  CI.,  Nov.  2,  1918.    Home  address,  79  Linwood  Ave., 

Jamestown,  N.  Y. 

SMART.  PAUL  H.    2nd  Lt.    Trans,  from  Btry.  C,  Aug.  29,  1918.    Trans. 

to  Btry.  C,  Sept.  5,  1918. 
SMITH,  CLARENCE  H.    Enl.  July  9,  1917.     Pvt.  1  Q.,  Mar.  1,  1918. 

Home  address,  132  Lexington  Ave.,  Cambridge,  Mass. 
SMITH.  LOUIS  M.    Enl.  July  25,   1917.    Bugler.  Aug.  10,  1917.    Pvt, 

1  CI.,  Mar.  1,  1919.    Home  address.  Mason,  N.  H. 
SMITH,  THOMAS  W.    Enl.  Apr.  26,  1917.    Pvt,  1  CI.,  June  15,  1918. 

Home  address.  62  Salem  St,  Medford,  Mass. 
SNELLING.  SAMUEL  W.    Enl.  Apr..  1917.    Corp.,  Aug.,  1917.    Sgt., 

June  8,  1918.    Home  address,  Lincoln,  Mass. 
SOULE,  CHESTER  F.    Enl.  Apr.  30,  1917.    Home  address,  274  Chest- 
nut St,  W.  Newton,  Mass. 
SPIERS,  JOHN  H.    Enl.  July  24,  1917.    Trans,  to  Hdq.,   101st  F.  A., 

Apr.  15,  1918.    Home  address,  300  Ashmont  St,  Dorchester,  Mass. 

STANDISH  KARL.  Enl.  June  14.  1917.  Pvt.  1  CI..  Jan.  1.  1917. 
Trans,  to  101st  F.  A.  Supply  Co.,  Apr.  12,  1918.  Home  address, 
46  Lawrence  St.,  Canton,  Mass. 

STEARNS,  GRANVILLE  W.  Enl.  May  21,  1917.  Trans,  to  Btry.  B, 
1st  Me.  Heavy  Art,  Sept.  6,  1917.  Home  address,  196  Ocean  St, 
Providence,  R.  I. 

STEVENS,  CHESTER  A.  Enl.  July  19.  1917.  Corp.,  Dec.  28,  1918. 
Home  address,  Newton  June,  N.  H. 

STEWART,  ROBERT  H.  Enl.  Mar.  15,  1917.  Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co., 
101st  F.  A.,  Nov.  25.  1917.  Home  address,  381  Park  St.,  Newton, 
Mass. 

STREET,  JOHN  B.  Enl.  July  19,  1917.  Trans,  to  Hdq.,  51st  Brig., 
F.  A.,  Aug.  27,  1917.    Home  address,  229  Main  St,  Medford,  Mass. 

STREIT,   LEONARD   R.    Enl.    May  28.    1917.    Trans,   to   Supply   Co., 

101st  F.  A.,  Aug.  24,  1917.    Home  address,  6  Beale  St,  Dorchester, 

Mass. 
STORER,  THEODORE  L.    Enl.  June  10,  1915.    Corp.,  Jan.,  1917.    Sgt.. 

Apr.,  1917.    1st  Sgt,  May  15,  1917.    2nd  Lt,  Nov.  16,  1917.    1st  Lt, 

July  31,  1918.    Home  address.  Waltham,  Mass. 

SULLIVAN.  LEWIS  R.  Enl.  Apr.  19,  1917.  Home  address,  108  Holmes 
Ave.,  Dorchester,  Mass. 


254  BATTERY  A 

SULLIVAN,  WALTER   L.    Enl.   June  26,   1916.    Pvt,   1   CI.,  June   IS, 

1918.     Home  address,  65  Terrace  St.,  Roxbury,  Mass. 
SPEIGHT,  HARRY.     Enl.  June  2,  1917.     Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Aug.  25,  1917, 

from  Coast  Art.     Home  address.  Box  386,  Peacedale,  R.  I. 
SYLVESTER,  JOSEPH  L.    Enl.  May  9,  1917.    A.  W.  O.  L.,  Oct.  29, 

1918,  and  dropped  from  rolls.     Home  address,  93  Leon  St.,  Roxbury, 

Mass. 

SYPHAN,  FRANK  J.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2nd  Lt.,  Jan.  1,  1918.    Trans. 

to  Military  Police,  Mar.,  1918. 
TAILBY,    ALLEN   R.     Enl.    May   10,   1917.     On   special   duty  with  Div. 

Hdq.  from  June,  1918.     Home  address,  88  Crest  Rd.,  Wellesley,  Mass. 
TANNER,  MARION  E.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  12,  1919.    Home  address, 

Mel  ford.  Utah. 
TAYLOR,   PERCY  L.     Enl.  June   10,    1918.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,   Dec.   13, 

1918.     Home  address,  Valejo,  Calif. 
TEMPLE,  CHARLES  S.     Enl.  Apr.  30,  1917.    Pvt.,  1  CI.,  May  3,  1918. 

With  Hdq.  Troop,  26th   Div.,   from  June,    1918.     Home  address,  232 

Melrose  St.,  Auburndale,  Mass. 

THURSTON,  HERBERT  O.  Enl.  Oct.  22,  1913.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  May  3, 
1918.     Home  address,  32  Dundee  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

TIBBETTS,  FRANK  L.  Enl.  May  28,  1917.  Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  101st 
F.  A.,  Aug.  23,  1917.  Home  address,  65  Portland  St.,  Cambridge, 
Mass. 

TILLEY,  BASIL  H.  Enl.  May  24,  1917.  Home  address,  38  Fordham 
Rd.,  Allston,  Mass. 

TOBIN,  RICHARD  S.  Enl.  June  23,  1916.  Trans,  to  Btry.  F,  101st 
F.  A.,  Sept.  5,  1917.     Home  address,  220  Harrison  St.,  Chelsea,  Mass. 

TORNROSE,  OTTO  W.  Enl.  Dec.  6,  1916.  Stable  Sgt.,  July,  1917,  to 
Oct.,  1918.     Home  address,  37  Arnold  St.,  Arlington,  Mass. 

TOWER,  BENJAMIN  C  Enl.  Nov.  13,  1916.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Nov.  13. 
1918.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Dec.  1,  1918.  (Previous  service  in  battery.  May, 
1905 — May,  1908.)     Home  address,  35  Congress  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

TOWLES,  CLAUDK  Enl.  June  27,  1918.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec.  13, 
1918.     Home  address,  526  Russell  St.,  Covington,  Ky. 

TULLO,  FRANK.  Enl.  Nov.  19,  1917.  Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Mar.  11,  1918. 
Home  address,  56  Bernards  Ave.,  Bernardsville,  N.  J. 

TURNER,  CARL  J.  Enl.  May  31,  1917.  Corp.,  Aug.  14,  1918.  Home 
address,  925  Broadway,  W.  Somerville,  Mass. 

TYLER,  GEORGE  R.  Enl.  May  25.  1917.  Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Nov.  12,  1918. 
Home  address,  85  Taylor  St.,  Waltham,  Mass. 

VANDENBERG,   HENRY.    Enl.  July  22,   1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec 

13,  1918.     Home  address.  Little  Chut,  Wis. 
VARNERIN,  ALBERT  L.    Enl.  May  9,   1917.    Hon.  dich.  at  Boxford, 

Mass.,  July  30,  1917. 
WALDO,   JOHN    L.    Enl.    July   27,    1917.     Pvt.,    1    CI.,   July    15,    1918. 

Trans,  to  Ordnance  Repair  Shop,  Oct.  4,  1918.     Dropped  from  rolls, 

Oct.,  1918.     Home  address,  Dartmouth,  Mass. 
WALTZ,   ROLLIN  A.     Enl.  June  1,   1917.     Trans,  to  Q.  M.  C,  N.  A., 

Dec.  22,   1917.    Attached,  Mar.   12,  1919.    Home  address,   17  Plumer 

St.,  Everett,  Mass. 
WASSMER,  THOMAS.    Enl.  July  24,  1918.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  Dec.   13, 

1918.    Home  address,  Wendel,  Ind. 


APPENDIX  255 

WEBSTER,  IRA  T.  Enl.  Mar.  29,  1917.  Corp.,  Nov.  26,  1917.  With 
Hdq.  Troop,  26th  Div.,  from  June,  1918.  Home  address,  East  Orange, 
N.J. 

WELCH,  FRANKLIN  E.  Enl.  May  10,  1917.  Trans,  to  F.  A.  Sch.  of 
Instruction,  Camp  De  Souge,  May,  1918.  Returned  to  Btry.  as  Sgt., 
Nov.,  1918.    Home  address,  4  Rosedale  St.,  Dorchester,  Mass. 

WELCH,  WILLIAM  R.  Enl.  May  1,  1916.  As.sgd.  to  Btry.,  Aug.  25, 
1917,  from  Coast  Art.    Home  address,  61  Fulton  St.,  Medford,  Mass. 

WHEELWRIGHT,  EDMUND  M.    Enl.  Oct.  28,  1915.    Corp..  Aug.  10, 

1917.  Trans,  to  Hdq.  Co.,  Aug.  4,  1918.    Home  address,  936  High  St., 
Dedham,  Mass. 

WHITE,   JOHN    B.    Enl.   Apr.  25,    1918.    Trans,   to   Btry.,   Dec,    1918. 

Home  address,  Lagro,  Ind. 
WILLIAMS,  LAWRENCE  B.     Enl.  May  31,  1917.    Corp.,  Jan.  5,  1918. 

Killed    in    action,    July    19,    1918.    Home    address,    South    Main    St., 

Cohasset,  Mass. 
WILLIAMS.  THOMAS  W.     Enl.  May  24,  1917.    Mech.,  Aug.  10,  1917. 

Home  address,  25  Alexander  St.,  Framingham,  Mass. 
WILLIAMS,  WILLIAM  E.    Assgd.  to  Btry.  as  2nd  Lt,  Nov.,  1918.  Home 

address  ,  1707  Congress  Ave.,  Austin,  Texas. 
WILLIAMS,  WILLIAM  E.     Enl.  June  21,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry.,  July 

27,  1918.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Nov.  12,  1918.    Home  address,  1014  Gratis  St., 

Des  Moines,  Iowa. 
WILNER,  JOSEPH.    Enl.  Mar.  29,  1917.    Mess  Sgt.,  June,  1917.  to  Oct., 

1918.  Trans,  to  the  Central  Printing  Office,  Paris,  Nov.,  1918.     Home 
address,  92  Lawrence  St.,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

WILSON,   RALPH    E.     Enl.    May  28,    1917.     Trans,   to  2nd   Div..   Jan. 

1918.  Returned   to  Btry.   as   Corp.,   Mar.,    1919.     Home   address,  483 
Central  St.,  Lowell,  Mass. 

WINTER,  CHARLES  F.    Enl.  Apr.  9,  1917.    Assgd.  to  Btry..  Aug.  28. 

1917,  from  Me.  Coast  Art.    Bugler,  Jan.  1,  1919.     Pvt.,  1  CI.,  Mar., 

1919.  Home  address.  47  Paris  St.,  Portland,  Me. 

WOLCOTT.   JASPER    R.     Enl.    Aug.   2,    1918.    Assgd.   to   Btry.,    Dec, 

1918.  Home  address,  Colton,  Ohio. 

WRIGHT,    COURTNEY    C.    Enl.    May    10,    1917.    Home    address,    31 

Washington  St.,  Maiden,  Mass. 
WRIGHT,  WHITELAW.    Enl.  June  20,  1916.    Trans,  from  26th  Div., 

July  17,  1918.     Home  address,  Highland  Court  Hotel,  Hartford,  Conn. 
YOUNG,  GEORGE  W.     Enl.   May  30.   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,  July  28, 

1918.    Home  address,  Wapello,  Iowa. 
ZAKAS,  NICHOLAS.    Enl.   Mar.  27,   1917.    Assgd.   to  Btry.,  Sept.   13, 

1918.     Home  address,  59  N.  Sitgreaves  St.,  Easton,  Pa. 
ZWINGE,  JOSEPH  W.    Enl.  July  25.  1917.    Pvt..  1  G..  Mar.  29,  1918. 

Died   of   wounds,   Apr.    16,    1918.    Home   address,    104    Summer    St., 

Arlington,  Mass. 


256 


BATTERY  A 


THE  BATTERY 

As  It  Looked  in  November,  1917,  at  Camp  Coetquidan,  France 

Capt.  Huntington 
1st  Lieut.  Clarke  2nd  Lieut.  Plummer 


1st  Lieut.  Knauth 


2nd  Lieut.  Kirwan 


BATTERY  HEADQUARTERS 
1st  Sgt.  Storer  Bn.  Agent  Corp.  Beck        Bugler  Lynch 

Guidon  O'Shaughnessy     Bugler  Noonan  Bugler  Smith,  L.  M. 


FIRST  SECTION 

Sgt.  Blackmur 

Corp.  Drew 

Corp.  Johnson,  C.  B. 

Pvt.    Apollonio 

Pvt.    Kimball 

Pvt.    Seale 

Pvt.    Williams,  L.  B. 

Pvt.    Day,  D. 
Pvt.    Day, CM. 
Pvt.    Plante 
Pvt.    Foster 
Pvt.    Burnham 
Pvt.    Fox 

SECOND  SECTION 
Sgt.  Hoar 

Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 

Murray 

Priebe 

Shedd 

Zwinge 

Johnson,  G.  A. 

Joyce 

Corp.  Kunhardt 
Corp.  Conway 
Pvt.    O'Day 
Pvt.    Welch,  F.E. 
Pvt.    McCarthy 
Pvt.    Estabrook 

Pvt.    Field 
Pvt.    Foley,  L.L. 
Pvt.    Foley,  T.C. 
Pvt.    Fowler 
Pvt.    Hurley 
Pvt.    Goodwin 

THIRD  SECTION 
Sgt.  Catton 

Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 

Johnson,  C.  P. 

Cleary 

Calkin 

Gleason 

Shepley 

Tailby 

Corp.  Ripley 
Corp.  Gifford 
Pvt.    Bond 
Pvt.    Chapin 
Pvt.    Barnes 
Pvt.    Bowers,  E.  A. 

Pvt,    Devaney 
Pvt.    Hibbard 
Pvt.    McArdle 
Pvt.    Rigby 
Pvt.    Smith,  T.W. 
Pvt.    Temple 

FOURTH  SECTION 
Sgt.  DeVeau 

Pvt. 
Pvt 
Pvt 
Pvt. 
Pvt 
Pvt 

Eldridge 
Jopp 
Nelson 
Spiers 

Welch,  W.  R. 
Kennedy,  J.  C 

Corp.  Mann 
Corp.  Wheelwright 
Pvt.    Farnsworth 
Pvt.    McCann 
Pvt.    Potter 

Pvt.    Webster 
Pvt.    Barlow 
Pvt.    Ellis 
Pvt.    Maguire 
Pvt.    Ricker 

Pvt.    Doughty 

FIFTH  SECTION 
Sgt.  Durant 

Pvt 
Pvt 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt 

Sylvester 

Barry 

Killeen 

Soule 

Howland 

Corp.  Abbott 
Corp.  Lloyd 
Pvt.    Austin 
Pvt.    Cook 
Pvt.    Fyler 
Pvt.    Fernberg 

Pvt.    Morris 
Pvt.    Thurston 
Pvt.    Clark 
Pvt.    Garner 
Pvt.    Arnold 
Pvt.    Bowers,  L.W. 

Pvt 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt 
Pvt. 

Dimn 

LeMoine 

Nickerson 

Quinn 

Dean 

Powell 

APPENDIX 


257 


Corp.  Snelling 
Corp.  Bird 
Pvt.    Hafer 
Pvt.    Horn 
Pvt.    Lyford 
Pvt.    Eykelbosch 


Corp.  Rogers,  W.  B. 
Corp.  Harding 
Pvt.    Kent 
Pvt.    Knox 
Pvt.    Lawrence 
Pvt.    Macfarland 


Corp.  Hooper 
Corp.  Lancaster,  B 
Pvt.    Burns 
Pvt.    Glidden 
Pvt.    Alden 
Pvt.    Stevens 


SIXTH  SECTION 
Sgt.  Gage 
Pvt.    Hackett 
Pvt.    Hall 
Pvt    Hoyt 
Pvt.    Farrar 
Pvt.    Lane 
Pvt.    James 

Pvt.    Kennedy,  C.Y. 

SEVENTH  SECTION 

Sgt.  Knauth 
Pvt.    Sawyer 
Pvt.    Charlton 
Pvt.    Martin 
Pvt.    Murphy 
Pvt.    Parker 
Pvt.    Prebensen 

EIGHTH  SECTION 


Sgt.  Faulkner 
Pvt.    Shackelford 

(Btry.  Clerk) 
Pvt.    Frank 
Pvt.    Laity 
Pvt.    RodliflF 
Pvt.    Sullivan,  W.  L, 
Pvt.    Tyler 


Pvt.  Jensen 

Pvt.  Knight 

Pvt.  Locke 

Pvt.  Loom  is 

Pvt.  Stewart 

Pvt.  Waldo 


Pvt.  Saindon 

Pvt.  Smith,  C.H. 

Pvt.  Standish 

Pvt.  Winter 

Pvt.  Tilley 

Pvt.  Plynspton 


Pvt.  Sullivan,  L.  R. 

Pvt.  Turner 

Pvt.  Waltz 

Pvt.  Wright,  C.C 

Pvt.  Bateman 

Pvt.  Dunklee 
Pvt.    Wilson 


Sta.  Sgt.  Tornrose 
Mess  Sgt.  Wilner 
Ch.  Mech.  Durden 
Saddler  Hart 
Mech.  Brown 


Corp.  Furness 
Corp.  Lancaster,  S. 


Corp.  Allen 
Corp.  Gammell 


NINTH  SECTION 
Sply.  Sgt.  Fall 
Mech.  Williams 
Mech.  Fisher 
Cook   Lorenzen 
Cook   Cosgrove 
Cook   Peterson 

SIGNAL  DETAIL 
Sgt.  James 
Pvt.    Peabody 
Pvt.    Curtis 

Pvt.    Derby 


Horse  Sh'r  Bailey 
Horse  Sh'r  Hunt 
Pvt.    Balch 
Pvt.    Speight 
Pvt.    MacDonald 


Pvt.    Ritchie 
Pvt.    Cunningham 


INSTRUMENT  DETAIL 
Sg^t.  Merriam 
Corp.  McSweeney  Pvt.    Chandler 


Pvt.    Rowan 
SCOUTS 


Corp.  Rogers,  H. 


258 


BATTERY  A 


THE  BATTERY 

As  It  Looked  Before  Sailing  for  the  United  States  —  March,  1919 

Capt.  Huntington 
1st  Lieut.  Stoker  2nd  Lieitt.  Williams 

1st  Lieut.  Hommel  2nd  Lieut.  Johnson 

2nd  Lieut.  Kunhardt 
1st  Sgt.  Fall 


Corp.  Devaney 
Corp.  Stevens 
Pvt.    Day,  D. 
Pvt.    Quinn 
Pvt.    Dunn 
Pvt.    Apollonio 


Corp.  Hafer 
Corp.  Caveny 
Pvt.    Goodwin 
Pvt.    Calkin 


FIRST  SECTION 
Sgt.  Abbott 
Pvt.    Burns 
Pvt.    Martin 
Pvt.    Plympton 
Pvt.    O'Shaughnessy 
Pvt.    Carlson,  M.  L. 
Pvt.    Field 

Pvt.    Dean 

SECOND  SECTION 


Pvt.  Maguire 

Pvt.  Foley 

Pvt.  Campbell,  J.  E. 

Pvt.  Lynch 

Pvt.  Mersky 

Pvt.  Luing 


Pvt. 


Sgt.  Conway 
Pvt.    Smith,  T.W. 
Pvt.    Cope 
Pvt.    Shepley 
Pvt.    Wright,  W. 
Clark 


Pvt.    Hall 
Pvt.    Kison 
Pvt.    Connell 
Pvt.    Parker 
Pvt.    Pontrish 


Corp.  Horn 

Corp.  Lane 

Pvt.    Plante 

Pvt.    Kennedy,  C.Y. 

Pvt.    Tower 


Corp.  Fowler 
Corp.  Ricker 
Pvt.    Dyer 
Pvt.    Arnold 
Pvt.    Tyler 
(mail  clerk) 


Corp.  Curtis 
Corp.  Johnson,  C.  P. 
Pvt.    Alden 
Pvt.    Simmons 
Pvt.    Fitzpatrick 


THIRD  SECTION 
Sgt.  Rogers,  W.  B. 

Pvt.    Knight 

Pvt.    Farrar 

Pvt.    Cosgrove 

Pvt.    Harlow 

Pvt.    Barnes 

Pvt.    MacGregor 
(Guidon) 

FOURTH  SECTION 
Sgt.  Chandler 
Pvt.    Doughty 
Pvt.    Burnham 
Pvt.    Barlow 
Pvt.    Johnson,  G.  A. 
Pvt.    Young 
Pvt.    Garner 

Pvt.    Harriman 

FIFTH  SECTION 
Sgt.  O'Day 
Pvt.    Powell 
Pvt.    Atkinson 
Pvt.    Nicker  son 
Pvt.    Marshall 
Pvt.    Barbee 


Pvt.  Hudson 

Pvt.  Agnew 

Pvt.  Towles 

Pvt.  Vandenberg 

Pvt.  Jennings 


Pvt.  MacDonald,  E.  N. 

Pvt.  Sullivan,  L.  R. 

Pvt.  Soule 

Pvt.  Locke 

Pvt.  Rodliff 

Pvt.  Murphy 


Pvt.    Dzeikwiewz 


Pvt.    Nolan 

Pvt.    Laity 

Pvt.    Railey 

Pvt.    Fuchs 

Pvt.    Hunt 

Pvt.    Shackelford 


APPENDIX 

SIXTH  SECTION 

Sgt.  Gifford 

Corp.  James                        Pvt.    Hibbard 
Corp.  Turner                       Pvt.    Welch,  W.  R. 
Pvt.    McArdle                   Pvt.    Nelson 
Pvt.    Forrest                      Pvt.    Zakas 
Pvt.    Rogers,  D.                Pvt.    Pilgrim 

Pvt.    Speight                               Pvt. 

Pvt.    Campbell,  E.  A. 
Pvt.    Bowers 
Pvt.    Hummell 
Pvt.    Taylor 
Pvt.    Tilley 
Prebensen 

SEVENTH  SECTION 

Sgt.  Snelling 

Corp.  Kennedy,  J.  C. 
Corp.  Kimball 
Pvt.    Jopp 
Pvt.    Shellady 
Pvt.    Hurley 

Pvt.    Williams,  W.  E. 
Pvt.    Austin 
Pvt.    Fernberg 
Pvt.    Martin,  W. 
Pvt.    Linsey 

Pvt.    Reichert 

EIGHTH  SECTION 
Sgt.  Macfarland 

Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 

Shedd 
Ton  rose 
Janes 
Wassmer 
Edwards 

Corp.  Bond 
Corp.  Day,  C.  M. 
Pvt.    Lyford 
Pvt.    Cleary 
Pvt.    Beal 

Pvt.    J 

Pvt.    Dunklee 
Pvt.    Rogers,  C. 
Pvt.    Holifield 
Pvt.    Carmichael 
Pvt.    Pratt 
ensen                             Pvl 

Pvt.    Carlson,  L.C 
Pvt.    Kiper 
Pvt.    White 
Pvt.    Wolcott 
Pvt.    Sullivan,  W.  L. 
:.    Norton 

NINTH  SECTION 

Sply.  Sgt.  Cook 

Ch.  Mech.  Hackett 

Mech.  Brown 

Mech.  Williams,  T.  W. 

Mech.  Fisher 

Mech.  MacDonald,  F.  E. 

Cook   Frank 

(Act.  Mess  Sgt.) 
Cook   Lorenzen 

Cook   Fox 
Cook    Harrington 
Cook   Nobles 
Cook    Densmore 
Sta.  Sgt.  Shahan 
Saddler  Hart 
Horse  Sh'r  Bailey 
Horse  Sh'r  Colton 
Pvt.    Renty 

Horse  Sh'r  Moynihan 
Pvt.    Armagost 
Pvt.    Tullo 

(barber) 
Pvt.    Sansone 

(tailor) 
Pvt.    Forzato 

(cobbler) 

TENTH  SECTION 

Sgt.  Welch,  F.  E. 

Corp.  Lancaster,  S. 
Corp.  Wilson 
Corp.  Rushton 

Mech.  Bloom 
Pvt.    Sigel 
Pvt.    Belt 

Pvt.    Sherman 

Pvt. 
Pvt. 
Pvt. 

Tanner 
Hel  f  enberg 
Sanich 

INSTRUMENT  DETAIL 

Sgt.  Allen 

Corp.  Bird 

Corp.  Derby 

Pvt.    Loomis 

SIGNAL  DETAIL 
Sgt.  Ritchie 

Pvt. 

Foster 

Corp.  Murray 
Pvt,    Saindon 

Pvt.    Smith,  CH. 
Pvt.    Eykelbosch 

Pvt. 
Pvt. 

Joyce 
McSweeney 

259 


260 


BATTERY  A 


Pvt.    Thurston 

Corp.  Rogers,  H. 
Sgt.  McCann 


MACHINE  GUN  SQUAD 

Corp.  Knox 

Pvt.    Wright,  C.C.  Pvt.    Lancaster,  B. 

Pvt.    Charlton 


"SCOUTS 


BATTERY  HEADQUARTERS 

Sgt.  Waltz  Sgt.  King 

Corp.  Estabrook  (Btry.  Clerk) 


Corp.  Potter 


BUGLERS 


Pvt.    Smith,  L.M.  Pvt.    Kent 


Pvt.    Winter 


APPENDIX  261 


BATTLES  IN  WHICH  BATTERY  A  PARTICIPATED 

CHEMIN  DES  DAMES 

February  2  to  March  19,  1918 

Moulin  Rouge  Raid Feb.  23,  1918 

Pont  Oger  Raid March  17,  1918 

TOUL 

April  3  to  June  27,  1918 

Mamey  Raid May  24,  1918 

Flirey    May  27,  1918 

Richecourt    Raid May  31,  1918 

Xivrey-Marvoisin    June  16,  1918 

Bois  Jure June  19,  1918 

CHATEAU-THIERRY— AISNE-MARNE  OFFENSIVE 

July  5  to  August  4,  1918 

Torcy,  Belleau,  Bouresches,  Givry July  18,  1918 

Etrepilly,  La  Gonetrie  Farm July  20,  1918 

Epieds,  Trugny,  Courpoil ,  .July  22,  1918 

Croix  Rouge  Farm,  Croix  Blanche  Farm,  Beuvardes July  26,  1918 

The  Ourcq,  Sergy,  Nesles,  Meurcy  Farm July  30 — Aug.    3,  1918 

The  Vesle,  La  Tuilerie Aug.  3-4,  1918 

ST.  MIHIEL 

September  12  to  October  10,  1918 

Mouilly,  St.  Remy,  Dommartin,  Heights  of  the  Meuse,  Hattonchatel, 

Sept.  12,  1918 

St  Hilaire  Raid Sept.  18,  1918 

Butgneville  Raid Sept.  22,  1918 

Marcheville-Riaville   Sept.  26,  1918 

Bois  De  Wavrille  Raid Oct.    2,  1918 

VERDUN— MEUSE-ARGONNE  OFFENSIVE 

October  14  to  November  11,  1918 

Belieu  Bois,  Bois  De  Moirey Oct.  23,  1918 

Molleville  Farm,  Houppy  Bois,  Bois  D'Ormont Oct.  25,  1918 

Bois  Des  Caures Nov.  10,  1918 

Ville  Devant  Chaumont,  Flabas Nov.  11,  1918 


262  BATTERY  A 


SOME  NOTEWORTHY  FACTS  IN  THE  BATTERY'S  RECORD 

The  Battery  was  the  first  National  Guard  Battery  to  land  in  Europe 
(Sept.  23,  1917). 

The  Battery  fired  the  first  shot  of  the  National  Guard  against  the 
Germans  (Feb.  5,  1918). 

The  Battery  fired  in  the  first  Rolling  Barrage  of  the  American  forces 
against  the  Grermans  (Feb.  23,  1918). 

The  Battery  was  mentioned  in  the  "Stars  and  Stripes,"  the  official 
'A.  E.  F.  paper,  for  its  firing  while  supporting  the  42nd  Division  in  the 
Aisne-Marne  Offensive. 

Thirteen  men  were  killed  in  action  during  the  war. 

Thirty-nine  men  were  wounded  or  gassed. 

Three  men  received  the  Distinguished  Service  Cross. 

Eighteen  men  were  cited  in  Divisional  Orders. 

Since  July  25,  1917,  334  men  and  officers  passed  through  the  rolls  of 
the  Battery. 

Between  July  25,  1917,  and  April  29,  1919,  123  days  were  spent  in 
traveling  from  one  place  to  another. 

The  Battery  spent  the  night  in  86  different  places  while  in  France. 

The  Battery  occupied  32  different  positions  on  the  front. 

The  Battery  spent  exactly  223  days  on  the  front. 

The  Battery  was  in  foreign  service  for  18  months  and  21  days. 

The  men  of  the  Battery  represented  35  different  states,  including  Can- 
ada and  England. 

The  Battery  fired  a  total  of  52,295  rounds,  the  third  section  piece  alone 
firing  14,005  rounds. 

Two  of  the  Battery's  guns  were  destroyed  by  enemy  shell  fire,  and 
one  was  blown  up.  Two  guns  stayed  in  service  through  the  whole  period 
of  action. 


APPENDIX  263 


THE  ECHELONS 

CHEMIN  DES  DAMES 

Landry— Feb.  3  to  March  19,  1918. 

TOUL 

Rangeval — April  3  to  12. 
Boncourt — April  13  to  May  10. 
Rangeval — May  11  to  May  22. 
Andilly — May  23  to  June  29. 

CHATEAU-THIERRY 

Citry— July  7^,  191& 
Montreuil — July  8-17. 

La  Loge  Farm — July  18-21   (Forward  Echelon). 
Grand  Rue  Farm — ^July  21-23  (Rear  Echelon). 
Roberts  Farm — July  21-23  (Forward  Echelon). 
Epieds— July  24-28  (Rear  Echelon). 
Epieds-Courpoil — July  24-27  (Forward  Echelon). 
Croix  Rouge  Farm — July  28  (Forward  Exhelon). 
Preaux  Farm — ^July  29 — Aug.  2  (Forward  Echelon). 
Villeneuve — Aug.  2-3  (Forward  Exhelon). 
La  Tuilerie — Aug.  3-4  (Forward  Echelon). 
Beuvardes — July  28 — Aug.  5  (Rear  Echelon). 

ST.  MIHIEL 

Rupt  (Le  Trois  Monts  Bois)— Sept.  5-8,  1918. 

Rupt  (Ravine  below  position) — Sept.  9-13. 

Rupt  (Near  position) — Sept.  12-13  (Forward  Echelon). 

Mouilly — Sept.  13-18  (Rear  Echelon). 

Hattonchatel — Sept.  13-14  (Forward  Echelon). 

Longeau  Farm — Sept.  14-16  (Forward  Echelon). 

Above  Dommartin — Sept.  16 — Oct.  2  (Forward  Echelon). 

Near  Grand  Tranchee — Oct  2-10. 

VERDUN 

Bois  De  Sartelles— Oct.  2— Nov.  15,  1918. 
Charny — (Forward  Echelon). 


264 


BATTERY  A 


THE  STATES  REPRESENTED  IN   THE  BATTERY 


Alabama 

Iowa 

Ohio 

Arizona 

Kansas 

Oklahoma 

Arkansas 

Kentucky 

Pennsylvania 

California 

Maryland 

Rhode  Island 

Canada 

Maine 

South  Carolina 

Colorado 

Massachusetts 

Tennessee 

Connecticut 

Michigan 

Texas 

England 

Missouri 

Utah 

Florida 

Nebraska 

Virginia 

Idaho 

New  Hampshire 

Washington 

Illinois 

New  Jersey 

Wisconsin 

Indiana 

New  York 

Total- 

35  different  States,  including  Eng 

land  and  Canada. 

THE  GUNS— (FRENCH  75's) 

FIRST  SECTION 

Gun  No.  13364.    Received  at  Coetquidan  on  Oct.  3,  1917.    Fired  3330 

rounds.     Destroyed  by  enemy  shellfire  at  Boncourt  on  April  21, 

1918. 
Gun    No.    17164.    "Lil."    Received   at   Boncourt   on   April   22,    1918. 

Fired  3410  rounds.     Seriously  damaged  by  enemy  shellfire  in  Bel- 

leau  Woods  on  July  19,  1918. 
Gun  No.  13610.    Received  at  Belleau  Woods  on  July  20,  1918.    Fired 

9547  rounds.    Turned  in  Jan.  17,  1919. 

SECOND  SECTION 

Gun  No.  14308.    "Pinard."    Received  at  Coetquidan  on  Oct.  3,  1917. 
Fired  11,666  rounds.    Turned  in  Jan.  17,  1919. 

THIRD  SECTION 

Gun  No.  13302.    "Cafard."    Received  at  Coetquidan  on  Oct,  3,  1917. 
Fired  14,005  rounds.    Turned  in  Jan.  17,  1919. 

FOURTH  SECTION 

Gun  No.  14207.    "Xantippe."    Received  at  Coetquidan  on  Oct.  3,  1917. 

Fired  6004  rounds.    Blew  up  at  Paris  Farm   (Lucy  Le  Bocage) 

on  July  13,  1918. 
Gun   No.   12385.    Received  at  Paris   Farm  on  July   13,   1918.    Fired 

4831  rounds.    Turned  in  Jan.  17,  1919. 


APPENDIX  265 


A  SUMMARY  OF  THE  BATTERY'S   MOVEMENTS 

AND  INTERESTING  EVENTS 

July  25,  1917  — April  29,  1919 


1917 

July  25.  Called  out.    Assembled  at  the  Commonwealth  Armory.  Boston, 

Mass. 

July  26.  Arrived  in  Boxford,  Mass. 

July  31.  Mustered  into  Federal  Service. 

Aug.    5.  Drafted  into  Federal  Service, 

Sept.   7.  Left  Boxford. 

Sept   8.  Arrived  in  New  York  and  boarded  S.  S.  Adriatic. 

Sept.   9.  (11  A.  M.)     Left  New  York. 

Sept.  11.  Arrived  in  Halifax. 

Sept.  12.  Sailed  from  Halifax  with  convoy. 

Sept.  20.  Picked  up  Destroyers. 

Sept.  23.  (8  A.  M.)     Landed  in  Liverpool,  England. 

Sept.  23.  (11  P.  M.)     Arrived  in  Southampton. 

Sept.  24.  (6  P.  M.)     Sailed  across  English  Channel  on  S.  S.  Caesare. 

Sept.  25.  (6  A.  M.)     Arrived  in  Havre,  France. 

Sept.  25.  (9  P.  M.)     Entrained  at  Havre. 

COETQUIDAN 

Sept.  21.  (3  A.  M.)     Arrived  at  Camp  Coetquidan,  Guer,  France. 

Oct.     3.  The  French  75's  arrived. 

Oct.  24.  Fired  for  the  first  time. 

Nov.  10.  The  horses  arrived. 

CHEMIN  DES  DAMES 

1918 

Feb.     1.  Left  Coetquidan  for  the  front. 

Feb.    2.  Detrained  at  Soissons. 

Feb.    3.  Hiked  to  Echelon  at  Landry. 

Feb.    4.  (night)     Firing  Battery  into  position  north  of  Ostel. 

Feb.     5.  Fired  the  first  shot  against  the  Germans. 

Feb.  2Z.  Fired  our  first  rolling  barrage. 

Mar.  19.  Left  the  Chemin  Des  Dames  for  the  Rest  Billets. 

Mar.  20.  Detrained  at  Brienne  Le  Chateau;  marched  to  Radonvillers. 

Mar.  24.  Road  march  to  La  Chaise. 

Mar.  25.  Road  march  to  Thil. 

Mar.  26.  Road  march  to  Brachay. 

Mar. 27.  Road  march  to  Signeville  (our  permanent  billets). 

Mar.  30.  Road  march  to  Neuf chateau. 

Mar.  31.  Road  march  to  Allain. 

Apr.    1.  Road  march  to  Bois  L'Eveque. 

Apr.    2.  Road  march  to  Bruley. 

Apr.    3.  Road  march  to  Rangeval. 


266  BATTERY  A 

TOUL 

Apr.  3.  (night)  First  Plat,  relieved  2  guns  of  E  Btry.,  7th  F.  A.,  in 
position  back  of  Rambucourt. 

Apr.  4.  (night)  Second  Plat,  relieved  2  guns  of  E  Btry.,  7th  F.  A.,  in 
swamp  position  west  of  Mandres. 

Apr.    8.     (night)     First  Plat,  moved  back  to  swamp  position. 

Apr.  12,     (night)     Road  march  to  new  echelon  at  Boncourt. 

Apr.  13.     Firing  Battery  into  position  near  Fort  Liouville. 

Apr.  20.  (night)  Firing  Battery  moved  back  to  position  formerly  occu- 
pied by  F  Battery. 

May  10.     (night)     Relieved  by  B  Battery. 

May  11.     Road  march  back  to  old  echelon  at  Rangeval. 

May  11.  (night)  Firing  Battery  into  B  Btry's  swamp  position  west  of 
Mandres. 

May  20.     (night)     Firing  Battery  motored  by  truck  to  Gezoncourt. 

May  21.     (night)     Firing  Battery  into  position  north  of  Mamey. 

May  24.     (night)     Back  to  Gezoncourt. 

May  25.     (night)     Firing  Battery  into  position  at  Bernecourt. 

May  24.     Echelon  moved  from  Rangeval  to  Andilly. 

June  26.     (night)     First  Plat,  relieved. 

June  27.     (night)     Second  Plat,  relieved. 

June  28.     (night)     Road  march  to  Troussey. 

June  30.     (night)     R.  R.  trip  to  Dammartin,  entraining  from  Vaucouleurs. 

CHATEAU-THIERRY 

July    1.     (night)     Road  march  to  Boutigny. 

July    4.     (night)     Road  march  to  Jouarre. 

July    5.     (night)     Road   march ;    Echelon    to    Citrey.     Firing    Battery    to 

Limon. 
July    6.     (night)     First  and  Second  Plats,  into  separate  reserve  positions 

near  St.  Aulde. 
July    7.     (night)     Second  Plat,  relieved  Plat,  of  A  Battery  of  12th  F.  A. 

near  Paris  Farm. 
July    8.     (night)     First  Plat,  relieved  Plat  of  A  Battery  of  12th  F.  A. 

in  "silent  position,"  Paris  Farm. 
July    8.     (night)     Echelon  moved  to  Montreuil. 
July  18.     Firing  Battery  moved  to  position  in  Belleau  Woods  northwest  of 

Lucy. 
July  18.     Forward  echelon  moved  forward  to  La  Loge  Farm. 
July  21.     Firing  Battery  moved  forward  to  position  near  St.  Robert  Farm. 
July  23.     Firing  Battery  advanced  to  position  between  Epieds  and  Courpoil. 
July  21.     Rear  Echelon  moved  forward  to  the  Grand  Rue  Farm. 
July  24.     Rear  Echelon  moved  to  Epieds. 
July  28.     (night)     Firing    Battery   advanced   to   position   near   the   Croix 

Rouge  Farm. 
July  29.     (night)     Firing  Battery  advanced  to  position  near  the  Esperance 

Farm. 
July  30.    Rear  Echelon  moved  up  to  Beuvardes. 
Aug.   2.    Firing  Battery  advanced  to  position  near  Sergy. 
Aug.   3.    Firing  Battery  advanced  to  position  near  La  Tuilerie. 
Aug.   4.     (night)     Relieved;  road  march  back  to  Beuvardes. 

THE  REST  PERIOD 

Aug.   5.     (night)     Road  march  to  Essomes. 
Aug.   7.    Road  march  to  Mery. 

Aug.  15-16.  R.  R.  trip  from  La  Ferte  sous  Jouarre  to  Bar  Sur  Seine;  road 
march  from  Bar  Sur  Seine  to  Gommeville. 


APPENDIX  267 

ST.  MIHIEL 

Aug.  31.    Road  march  to  Poincon ;  R.  R.  trip  from  Poincon  to  Tronville ; 

road  march  to  Tannois. 
Beauvardes— July  28 — Aug.  5  (Rear  Echelon). 
Sept.   2.     (night)     Road  march  to  woods  near  Anglemont  Farm. 
Sept.   5.     (night)     Road  march  to  woods  north  of  Rupt  en  Woevre. 
Sept.   8.     (night)     Firing  Battery  moved  to  old  French  position  east  of 

Rupt;  echelon  to  ravine  in  rear. 
Sept.  13.    Firing  Battery  advanced  to  position  near  Hattonchatel. 
Sept.  14.     Firing  Battery  moved  back  to  position  near  Longeau  Farm. 
Sept.  14.     Rear  Echelon  moved  up  to  Mouilly. 
Sept.  16.     Firing  Battery  moved  to  position  above  Dommartin. 
Sept.  19.     (night)     Firing  Battery  moved  down  to  Herbeuville  on  Woevre 

Plain. 
Sept.  23.    Rear  echelon  moved  to  woods  south  of  Longeau  Farm. 
Sept.  24.     (night)     Third  and  Fourth  pieces  out  to  positions  near  Wadpn- 

ville  as  sniping  guns. 
Sept.  28.    Forward  Echelon  moved  back  to  woods  south  of  Longeau  Farm. 
Oct     2.     (night)     Firing  Battery  moved  up  to  B  Battery's  old  position 

north  of  Dommartin. 
Oct.  10.     (night)     Relieved;  road  march  to  woods  between  Mouilly  and 


Rupt. 


VERDUN 


Oct.  11.     (night)     Road  march  to  the  Bois  De  Sartelles,  near  Verdun. 
Oct  15.     (night)     Road  march   to  position   in   "Death   Valley"  on  crest 

south  of  Haumont;  Forward  Echelon  to  Charny. 
Oct  23.     (night)     Firing    Battery   moved    forward   to   position   north   of 

Haumont  in  "Death  Valley." 
Nov.    1.     (night)     First  Plat  relieved  plat  of  French  in  old  position  near 

Haudromont  Farm. 
Nov.   2.     (night)     Second   Plat,  relieved  plat  of  French  in  old  position 

near  Haudromont  Farm. 

THE  ARMISTICE 

Nov.  14.    Echelon  moved  to  Bois  De  Thierville. 
Nov.  IS.    Echelon  moved  to  Seracourt. 
Nov.  15.     Firing  Battery  moved  by  truck  to  Seracourt 
Nov.  16.    Road  march  to  Ville  Devant  Belrain. 
Nov.  18.    Road  march  to  Erize  St.  Dizier. 
Nov.  21.    Road  march  to  Guerpont 
Nov.  28.     Road  march  to  Gery. 

Dec.  19-20.    Road  march  to  Ligny;  R.  R.  trip  to  La  Ferte;  road  march  to 
1919 

Varennes. 
Jan.  17.    Turned  in  guns  and  material. 

Jan.  22-23.     (night)     Road  march  to  Vitrey;  R.  R,  trip  to  Mayet 
Feb.  19.     Divisional  Review  by  General  Pershing. 
Mar.  27-28.     R.  R.  trip  to  Brest 

Mar.  31.     (1  P.  M.)     Sailed  for  the  U.  S.  on  S.  S.  Agamemnon. 
Apr.    7.     Arrived  in  Boston. 
Apr.  22.     Divisional  Review  at  Camp  Devens. 
Apr.  25.    Divisional  Parade  in  Boston. 
Apr.  29.    Discharged. 


268 


BATTERY  A 


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APPENDIX 


269 


BATTERY  POSITIONS  OCCUPIED  ON  THE  FRONT 


No. 

Position 

Date 

rounds 
fired 

CHEMIN  DES  DAMES 

1918 

Ostel 

Feb. 

4— Mar.  19 

5435 

TOUL 

^Rambucourt 

Apr. 

3-   8 

47 

Rambucourt  (Swamp  pos.) 

Apr. 

4-12 

1 

Fort  Liouville 

Apr. 

13-20 

604 

Boncourt 

Apr. 

21— May   10 

3494 

Mandres  (Swamp  pos.) 

May 

11-19 

76 

Mamey 

May 

20-24 

622 

Bernecourt 

May 

24— June  27 

5362 

CHATEAU-THIERRY 
St.  Aulde  (1  &  2) 
(Reserve  pos.) 
Paris  Farms  ( 1  &  2  ) 
Belleau  Woods 
St.  Robert  Farm 
Epieds-Courpoil 
Croix  Rouge  Farm 
Esperance  Farm 
Sergy 
La  Tuilerie 

ST.  MIHIEL 
Rupt 

Hattonchatel 
Longeau  Farm 
Dommartin 
Hcrbeuville  (1  &  2) 
Wadonville  (1  &  2) 
Dommartin  (B's  old  pos.) 

VERDUN 

Haumont  Crest 
Haumont  Ravine 
Haudromont  Farm 


July      6-  7 


July 

8-18 

5835 

July 

19-21 

2346 

July 

21-23 

1814 

July 

23-27 

2807 

July 

28 

0 

July 

28— Aug. 

2 

3982 

Auk. 

2-   3 

0 

Auk. 

8-   4 

0 

Sept. 

8-13 

2241 

Sept. 

13-14 

0 

Sept. 

14-16 

0 

Sept. 

16-19 

0 

Sept. 

19— Oct. 

2 

651 

Sept. 

24— Oct. 

2 

1600 

Oct. 

2-10 

0 

Oct. 

15-23 

1709 

Oct. 

23-31 

2670 

Oct. 

81— Nov. 

11 

2381 

No.        No.  men 

men        wounded 

killed     or  gassed 


t 


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